


Mob Mentality

by S_Horne



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A little more than than though, Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, Club Owner Bucky Barnes, Fluff, Kidnapped Tony Stark, Kidnapping, M/M, Mild torture, Mob Boss Bucky Barnes, Professor Tony Stark, Protective Bucky Barnes, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, it's dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 13:09:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 33,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16640732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Horne/pseuds/S_Horne
Summary: Tony wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten here, here being tied to a chair with a cut above his eye releasing a steady stream of blood down his face. His ribs hurt and he was at least 87% sure that his left knee was broken. When he flexed it gently the pain was almost unbearable. Okay, make that 99% sure. It was without a doubt broken - which would have been 100%. Fuck; his brain was broken now too, as well several of as his fingers. To be honest, his ankles didn’t feel great either.How the fuck had he ended up here?Sure, he’d always known that Bucky Barnes wasn’t the angel Tony wanted to believe that he was, but he definitely hadn’t known it was going to lead him here./As it turns out, Tony's angelic boyfriend was actually the head of one of the most notorious mobs in New York. A fact discovered when Tony was kidnapped by a rival mob. Well. He hadn't seen that one coming.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is super scary to post. This is my longest fic by a country mile and it was so hard to keep track of everything.
> 
> So, this fic was written for the Winteriron Reverse Big Bang 2018 and I chose the wonderful artwork of [romancebyfaye](https://romancebyfaye.tumblr.com/). It was such a good choice because of the FANTASTIC work she produced!! It's beautiful. (it will be in the body of the text). 
> 
> This fic is so way beyond my normal work, it's insane. I have no idea where half of it comes from and it gets pretty rough. It's violent and unhealthy, but hey, it's a mob. It's also an AU so there will be stuff that isn't realistic or makes you think 'huh??' (also, I notice how I use the same 7 words, so I think I might invent a drinking game for my own works). I took the names of real Hydra agents - I just chose random ones for the purposes of writing. I don't know who they are in the comics so that has no bearing on this. I just saw names that I could work with and ran with them.
> 
> Thank you to the lovely [shi-toyu](https://shi-toyu.tumblr.com/) who volunteered to beta this. Seriously, thank you. It was great. I was the worst author ever and the last part of this is unbeta'd because I suck at time management. Please report all mistakes to me. (And there are a lot). 
> 
> I'm sorry it was a little rushed towards the end and I'm really ashamed. I could have done more, but I hope that some of you like this and I live up to Romancebyfaye's hopes. Because her art is awesome.
> 
> Okay. Let's get into this!!

Tony wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten here, here being tied to a chair with a cut above his eye releasing a steady stream of blood down his face. His ribs hurt and he was at least 87% sure that his left knee was broken. When he flexed it gently the pain was almost unbearable. Okay, make that 99% sure. It was without a doubt broken - which would have been 100%. Fuck; his brain was broken now too, as well several of as his fingers. To be honest, his ankles didn’t feel great either.

How the fuck had he ended up here? Sure, he’d always known that Bucky Barnes wasn’t the angel Tony wanted to believe that he was, but he definitely hadn’t known it was going to lead him here.

“Who the fuck is he?” Tony screamed out.

When the next punch was delivered, he was nearly in tears. He’d barely had time to collect his thoughts when he’d first arrived and the bag had been pulled off his head before three thugs had been on him. They were huge men, two with dark hair and one with blond, and all with terrifying muscles. There was a tattoo on each of their biceps, a weird octopus sort of thing with a skull head.

“I swear to you, I don’t know who you’re talking about!”

“The Winter Soldier,” Thug 1 snarled for the thousandth time.

“I still don’t know who that is!”

What more could Tony say? He had no idea who the Winter Soldier was, if it was a person or a band or a fucking night club. No matter how many times he was asked the question or how many punches he was given, Tony would never just magically know what they were talking about.

“Give it up, Stark.” That was Thug 2; his voice had a very distinctive lilt that Tony had gotten used to lately.

“I don’t know.” Tony was nearly at the point of giving up. The fight had practically left him already and he let his shoulders slump. “I really don’t know.”

 

_“What can I get you?”_

_Tony leant over the bar as far as he could with his feet still on the sticky floor to hear the barman, the man hardly standing still as he flitted around serving the hundreds of thirsty customers. When he deciphered the question, he shouted back his order of two beers and pulled himself back, resting against the bar-top as he waited for his drinks._

 

__

 

 

_He hated clubs usually; bars were much more his thing. Sure, some of them were just as loud, but they were more sociable. Ten years ago he was the other way around, but now? Now he wanted a quiet drink in a cosy booth, legs pressed against someone else’s as they shared a plate of hot fries smothered in something greasy._

_This place was different, though. He’d stumbled across_ Winter _when he’d been dragged along for the birthday party of a woman he worked with. The party has been awful, but the club had had a certain charm that had pulled Tony back. He couldn’t really put his finger on what it was that made the place so welcoming to him, but for some reason it was just so different to most of the clubs round the same part of town._

_However, the douchebag who had just blanketed himself against his back was certainly not a selling point for the place._

_“Hey there, sugar,” the man purred in his ear and Tony recoiled at the hot breath that stank of cheap lager. “How you doing?”_

_Tony tried to wriggle away, but the man’s arms tightened around his waist and pinned him to the bar._ Oh, shit _, Tony thought, gearing himself up for a fight and thinking of his exit strategy._

_“Get off me,” he snarled out angrily. “Get off me right now.”_

_The man laughed down his neck, making Tony shiver._

_“Why would I want to do that, baby? I quite like where I’m standing. So, what’s your name?”_

_Tony shuffled again. He wasn’t weak or helpless by any stretch of the imagination, but he really didn’t want to cause a large scene in the middle of the club. He liked this place. Well, usually._

_“Take your hands off my waist,” Tony said, his words as hard as steel._

_The barman closest to Tony had his back to him and no one else seemed to notice. It probably just looked like a normal couple embracing anyway, what with the way that the guy was nuzzling Tony’s neck and the hands running over his waist. What they couldn’t see was the way that the bar was digging painfully into Tony’s stomach or the harsh clench of his jaw, his knuckles white where his fists were clenched._

_“Come on, baby. Come home with me. I’ll show you what a real man can do, can show you things that will make you scream.”_

_Tony was already ready to scream, ready to throw his hands up and dislodge the dickhead that was stuck to his back like a shell._

_“Don’t be such a little bitch,” the man crooned in his ear, seemingly turned on by Tony’s struggles. “Just give in, baby. You’ll love it, I promise.”_

_Tony was just getting ready to throw himself backwards, to say to hell with worrying about causing a scene, when he heard a new voice._

_“I believe he asked you to get off him.”_

_The new voice was deep and gravelly, commanding and strong. It was soothing in a weird kind of way and not half as terrifying as the other man’s had been._

_Tony flinched as the man still attached to him laughed loudly, but turned in shock when he felt a hand removed from his side. He managed to twist just enough to look over his shoulder and watched in awe as his saviour yanked his attacker’s arm right back, his shoulder cracking with a painful noise that could be heard even over the loud music and his face paling._

_Time seemed to slow as Tony’s rescuer leant in until he was millimetres from the other man’s ear and whispered something to him. Whatever had been said seemed to work as Tony found himself almost immediately free. He felt a sick sense of joy at the look on the creep’s face; he looked merely seconds from passing out._ _As soon as the guy’s arm was released by Tony’s liberator, bouncers appeared and grabbed the bully firmly, dragging him not-so-gently to the exit. Tony looked away from that, having seen too much of that man, and turned his attention elsewhere. Namely, to his hero._

_The man that had come to Tony’s rescue was, quite frankly, stunning. He was just gorgeous, there was no denying that. He had long, dark brown hair that was half tied in a loose bun at the back of his head and half curling around his face. His eyes were dark, a sort of stormy gray, and outlined by long lashes that were definitely something to be jealous of. Tony swallowed and checked that his mouth hadn’t fallen open at the sight of the man’s high cheekbones and that sharp jaw decorated with thick stubble. He jolted a little at the thoughts in his head and how quickly his attentions had been turned from the sleaze that had just left._

_The man’s focus was on watching Tony’s attacker being shoved out of the club, his dark eyes narrowing and a muscle in his jaw jumping. Tony sighed and turned back to the bar, noticing that the bar-staff were all staring over his shoulder, seemingly at the man behind him. He turned around again to steal one more glance only to find that the man was standing right next to him. Tony couldn't help but notice that the man's eyes seemed unexpectedly bright in the low lighting of the club and that he was even more striking standing so close._

_“Come with me.”_

_Tony startled at the low growl of the words and let out a small meep when his arm was grabbed – much more gently than he had been touched before, Tony was pleased to note – and he was led away. When they reached a velvet rope blocking off a dimly-lit room, Tony’s brow furrowed. He had only paid for normal entrance; he wasn’t a VIP. He wasn’t unaccustomed to a luxurious lifestyle, well known in the lecture-circuit, but his fame didn’t stretch to anywhere outside of certain academic circles. Well, not that he had known of. Just as he opened his mouth to say so, the bouncers guarding the room stepped forward to move the rope, waving them both through without a second glance._ _Tony held back, completely confused as to what was going on. He eyed his rescuer warily until the man held up his hands._

_“I come in peace, I swear. I own the place; you’ll be safe.”_

_Tony bit his lip, but he’d never been one to think straight, especially with the alcohol that was coursing through his blood. Plus, the guy was fucking hot._

 

 

_The room was full of soft-looking couches and two walls were made up of a long, full bar that the other man headed for as he gestured for Tony to take a seat._

_“Beer?” he asked, “I noticed that you never got served. Or would you like something stronger?”_

_Tony finally managed to find his voice again and he swallowed before he spoke, proud of how strong it sounded._

_“Whiskey, please. And, um, thank you. For what you did out there, I mean.”_

_“It’s nothing. That guy was an asshole that should never have made it through the doors. It’s good that he’s gone and he won’t be let back in now.”_

_Tony nodded, suitably impressed, before a thought struck him. “Wait. How did you notice that I never got served? I didn’t see you anywhere on the floor.”_

_The man froze as he reached out for two glasses and Tony bit back a smile at his discomfort. He had seemed so confident for the few minutes that Tony had known him, and now Tony had tripped him up._ _Tony waited as the other man started moving again, quickly pouring two generous glasses of amber liquid and bringing them over as he sat next to Tony on the couch, though he left a large space between them._

_“My name is James Barnes,” he finally said, his voice as deliciously smooth as the whiskey Tony accepted from him. “Bucky to almost everyone I know. And those I don’t, actually.”_

_The hot flash of attraction deep in his stomach was something that Tony really wasn’t used to. It was a little unnerving, but Tony was ready to embrace it. See where it would take him. It had been a long time since he’d acted on a thrill and he was enjoying the fire._

_“I noticed you weeks ago, quite possibly the first time that you came in here. I recognised you from one of your lectures, the Analysis of Finite Element Computational Modelling.”_

_Tony’s face must have given away his surprise as Bucky scowled darkly._

_“Don’t look at me like that. I could be smart.”_

_“I’m sure you are,” Tony conceded, though he didn’t let Bucky know that that title was a little wrong. He was still a little confused as to what was going on, but he rolled with it. “So, how did you find it?”_

_Bucky coloured some more and turned his head, gaze dropping to twist the glass between his hands. “I didn’t understand a single word. Wasn’t my idea to go in the first place.”_

_Tony smothered his laugh with a cough and tried to straighten his face. “Well, engineering isn’t for everyone,” he said softly. Taking a sip of his drink, he paused. “I first came here a few months ago. It was someone at work’s birthday.”_

_“I know,” Bucky eventually admitted, not looking up from his tumbler. “Part of my office overlooks the club floor and you caught my eye. When I saw you tonight, I…”_

_“How did you know that I needed help?”_

_Bucky finally met Tony’s gaze, his head shaking as he held his hands up, spread out in front of his chest._

_“I didn’t think that you needed help. I’m sorry; I didn’t want it to seem like you did, I’m sure that you can handle yourself. I didn’t mean to imply that you couldn’t, or to overstep my place. It’s just, this club is meant to be safe for everyone. We don’t want anyone to feel unsafe, or even uncomfortable. I recognised the look on your face from my office and, well. The club is better off without him.”_

_“I certainly am,” Tony replied with a grin. “I’m Tony. Tony Stark. But you probably already knew that.”_

_Bucky huffed a laugh and accepted the hand that Tony was offering. As soon as their palms met, it was electric. It was probably the biggest cliché in the world, but Tony felt it. Their fingers curled together in a way completely inappropriate for a handshake, and Tony never wanted to let go._

_“Yeah,” Bucky cut through Tony’s thoughts, “I kinda did.”_

_“So,” Tony said, settling back into the couch cushions and taking a sip of his whiskey, “nice arm.”_

_And it was. Tony had noticed it as soon as they were out of the crowd of the main club. It was utterly unique, a perfect silver that shone as the lights of the club bounced off it with every small movement. Even in the low light of the back room, it was gorgeous._

_Bucky’s face hardened but Tony held his gaze, not flinching away for a moment. The man might be hot as hell, but Tony wasn’t quite sure he trusted him yet. Let him stew for a bit._

_“It’s the Wakandan model, right?”_

_When Tony only took another sip of his whiskey, Bucky seemed to relax._

_“Yeah,” he said carefully, eyes still on Tony’s. There was a tension in the air, something thick but not strained. It was hot. Very hot, actually. “I was in their trial.”_

_“What did you have before?”_

_“I didn’t.” Bucky finished his drink and went to get another, finally breaking their eye contact and allowing Tony to suck in a deep breath. “When I lost my arm, I spent a few months in the hospital. My brother heard about the trial and managed to get me onto it as soon as I got out.”_

_Tony nodded. “Right. It was a hard programme to get onto. Very limited numbers and pretty expensive. They used Vibranium, didn’t they?”_

_“Nobody knew that,” Bucky said slowly, as if something was just falling into place. “How the hell do you know that? Do you know someone on the trial?”_

_“No, but I was a consultant. They reached out to the university; obviously that sort of projects needs a number of people from a variety of sectors.”_

_“Damn. They said there were a number of high profile consultants on the project, but I didn’t realise one of them was you. I never really thought about it, I guess.”_

_Tony smiled over his tumbler and winked. “Yeah, I was on there. I never got to actually see the final inventions up close or to meet any of the participants, but I worked on the behind-the-scenes and the design work.”_

_“Fuck me. As if I could be any more in awe of you. I thought your lecture was impressive, but to have consulted on this project as well. Wow.”_

_A startled laugh was punched out of Tony at that. Maybe he hadn't been imagining the long looks that Bucky had been giving him or the darkening of his eyes when Tony’s throat moved to swallow his whiskey. Hm, he could work with that._

_“I would have loved to have been more involved with the final stages, closer with the patients, but we were told that it was a sensitive topic. Sensitive people involved, you know?”_

_Bucky cleared his throat and dropped his gaze from Tony’s as he crossed the room again to sit opposite Tony once more. Tony struggled to tear his eyes from those thick thighs as Bucky bent to sit down and when he finally managed, those grey eyes weren’t any less distracting._

_“It was nasty. In there, I mean. You probably would have hated to be there; I did for most of the time. There were a lot of people with a number of problems… well. Anyway.”_

_Tony noted the firm edge to Bucky’s voice and pressed his lips together for a second._   _“Well, I’m excited to see it in the flesh. Or, the metal as it were.”_

_When Bucky’s mouth quirked up in a smile, Tony counted it as a win, his stomach swooping deliciously again. God, this man was beautiful. All Tony wanted to do was dash across the room and throw himself to his knees._

_“If you ever need any maintenance on it, I’d be happy to take a look,” he continued. “I’ve actually been looking into a wider range of limbs in my spare time, expanding into using the same technology for other medical problems. I think I’ve figured out some of the design flaws as well. Nothing major, just a couple of kinks and tweaks. And I think Wakanda is looking to do a second trial pretty soon.”_

_“Hm.”_

_Tony nodded and brought the conversation to a close, sensing that his rescuer wasn’t too comfortable with the topic. At least Tony had established that he was an okay guy. Nothing to be scared of._

_“Well, I’m glad to see that everything is still working. It was such an awesome project to be a part of.” He took another sip of his whiskey and looked around curiously, trying to stop himself from launching across the room and biting dark marks into Bucky’s damn enticing neck.  “So, where did you bring me?”_

_“VIP lounge.” Bucky watched Tony as he replied, leaning back into his chair and crossing his legs._

_“It seems pretty empty.”_

_“Mm,” Bucky agreed with Tony’s observation, watching him with hooded eyes, “not many VIPs around here.”_

_Tony laughed and chased the last taste of whiskey from his lips with his tongue, the flavour making him sigh contentedly. “I don’t mind. Quite glad, actually,” he continued as he set down his glass and leant forward again. He had never been good at sitting still, but this time he had a good reason to move. This was a chance that he was going to take._

_Bucky opened his mouth and made no attempt to push Tony away as he crept closer and closer, his hands sliding up Bucky’s legs._

_“This isn’t why I brought you here,” Bucky said, even as his arms encircled Tony’s waist and he held him tight. Not too tight, though, Tony was pleased to note. Bucky was being the opposite of the sleaze he’d had to deal with earlier and it was only serving to turn him on more._

_“I know,” Tony replied, leaning even closer until he was only a hair’s width away from Bucky’s lips, one of his hands going to the buttons on Bucky’s dark shirt, “but we might as well take advantage of the quiet, hadn’t we?”_

_Bucky let himself be pushed down onto the couch and settled his hands on Tony’s hips when Tony climbed  onto his lap. The alcohol in his blood was definitely giving him a new-found confidence, but Tony was loving it. He was also loving the way that metal hand felt against his skin, Bucky’s fingers working up beneath his shirt._

_“You’re definitely not so helpless, are you?”_

_Tony smirked, his eyes flashing dangerously. When Bucky’s own eyes darkened, Tony’s smirk grew._

_“No, I’m not. I can hold my own.” Tony paused and grinned wolfishly, “or you could hold my own.”_

_Bucky laughed and let his hands wander up Tony’s back, pulling him closer to his body._

_“Oh, I’ll hold you, doll.”_

_“That’s what I was hoping for,” Tony whispered just before his lips sealed over Bucky’s, their tongues dancing almost immediately as the kiss deepened._

 

A punch. Another punch. A kick, just to switch things up. God, it felt like his brain was coming loose and that probably wasn’t good. Tony barely had time to reel from one hit before another one landed.

His chest hurt. Everything hurt, actually. Every breath he took felt like he was breathing in fire, his ribs screaming at him from even the smallest movement. This was hell. Tony was trapped in hell.

Tony sighed deeply as he squinted through the dark once more to take a look around the warehouse he was in. He’d stared at the four walls for hours, but they weren’t changing. Where the hell was this place? It was pretty run down, empty except for his wooden chair and some boxes on the other side of the room. There was a table against one wall with a few stacks of paper on it, too. Tony was trying very, _very_ hard to ignore the boxes that looked scarily like containers for guns he’d seen in the action movies he liked to watch while grading papers.

How long had it been? There were windows high up near the warehouse ceiling, but it was too hard to keep track of the time. He spent a great deal of time blacked out anyway; he had absolutely no sense of how much had passed.

Had he missed midterms? Was his college worried about him? Did he even still have a job? Fuck, he probably missed midterms. All of his students were probably under the care of Hammer and that thought was even scarier than the prospect of staying in this fucking chair.

“You’ll tell us soon.”

Tony whimpered at the threat, the promise of so much more to come. It was a blessing when he was finally left alone, even as the darkness surrounded him, confusing his senses even more.

 

_Tony was tired. No, he was exhausted. It was the sort of exhaustion that went all the way from his brain down to his toes, the sort that could be felt deep in his bones. It had just been one of those days. One of those weeks, actually._

_He had already been given a full schedule this term, but then one of his colleagues – from the physics department, not even the engineering one – had gone off on sick leave and Tony had been asked to cover some of the lectures._

_Tony loved his job. He did. He really, really did. He loved being a professor and he loved teaching college kids as much as he loved his research and lab time, but he wanted to crash. Extra lectures coupled with papers to grade added to office hours and more faculty meetings was just a little too much for him. When he finally made it home, his eyes were nearly shut and his brain had completely shut down._

_“Hi,” he managed to croak out as he entered the apartment. He didn't get a reply and furrowed his brow, dropping his coat and bag by the door. When Tony moved further down the hallway and towards the living room, he heard Bucky's muffled voice coming from the kitchen. He changed direction and headed there to find his boyfriend._

_As Tony approached the room, Bucky’s voice got louder and louder, but Tony couldn’t decipher the words until he was standing in the doorway._

_“I want them to pay,” Bucky snarled, “I want my money somehow. Either get it in cash or beat it out of him. Take him down to the fucking basement if you need to; just get me the fucking money.”_

_If Tony hadn’t been absolutely dead on his feet, he might have paid more attention to Bucky’s words, might have thought that his boyfriend talking about beating someone up seemed a little strange, but he was and he didn’t._

_All Tony wanted to do was take Bucky’s hand and drag him to bed, curling around his warm boyfriend and snuggling into his embrace as he fell into a much needed sleep. He didn’t want to think about the bruises across Bucky’s knuckles or the small pocket-knife that Bucky pulled from the waistband of his jeans and slid under the pillow before he got into the bed._

_He told himself that he’d deal with that in the morning, but when Tony woke up, there was nothing there._

Tony was a teacher. Okay, he was a college professor with three PhDs to his name and a few Masters to boot, but he was still in the educational sector. He didn’t get mixed up in this sort of stuff. He taught lectures and graded papers, but what he didn’t do was make enemies of huge gangs who carried guns and beat people up and _carried out kidnappings._

It was getting predictable now, too. It was a horrible thing that he was getting used to this routine. There wasn’t much change in his day-to-day life any more, a little too much repetition for his liking. Tony could break the time up a little, but how accurate it was he couldn’t be sure. Between the light and the dark coming through the high windows there was an interrogation, – where Tony revealed nothing because he _knew_ nothing – a beating or two or three, a small refreshment and the occasional cleaning of his wounds, if his guard-dog was feeling generous.

_Tony laughed when he felt arms wrap around his waist and a warm body blanket itself across his back. He heard a growl and watched in amusement as the man that had been hitting on him fled in terror, his face having turned a deathly white. Settling back into the embrace, Tony dropped his head down onto Bucky’s shoulder._

_“Hi, sweetheart,” he said as Bucky turned his head to nuzzle into Tony’s neck._

_“Hi.” Bucky’s reply was muffled as he pressed kisses to Tony’s warm skin._

_“What was that for? We were only talking.”_

_Bucky huffed and bit down lightly just below Tony’s pulse point.  “That was not talking,” he disputed grumpily, “that was practically dry humping.”_

_Tony laughed and pushed himself up straighter, twisting in Bucky’s arms and lifting his hands to play with Bucky’s hair._

_“Oh, my darling idiot. We were literally talking – we weren’t even moving, let alone anywhere near the dance floor. I mean, I can show you dry humping, if you like.”_

_Bucky’s eyes darkened even in the dim light of the club and Tony felt a stirring low in his stomach. Then a thought occurred to him and he pulled back slightly._

_“Hey,” he said, face slipping into an expression of puzzlement._

_“What?”_

_“Why was that guy so scared of you? You didn’t even say anything and he ran away like you pulled a gun.” Tony stopped and he narrowed his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. “You didn’t pull a gun, did you?”_

_Bucky gave no visible reaction and just pulled Tony closer to him, burying his head into Tony’s  neck and pinching Tony’s sides until he started playing with Bucky’s hair again._

_“Maybe he’s just a pussy.”_

_“Or maybe you’ve got a rep,” Tony countered. He felt the way that Bucky tensed in his arms, but paid it no mind. “Luckily for you, I think you’re a giant teddy bear.”_

_Bucky huffed against Tony’s neck and Tony smiled._

_“Try not to scare all of your customers away though, babe. I won’t love you anymore if your club fails and you lose all your money. You know that’s the reason I’m with you.”_

_“Lie.”_

_Tony grinned and slid his knee in-between both of Bucky’s to grind against him dirtily._

_“You got me. I like your possessive side, as well. That’s definitely a factor.” Tony hummed as he caught the eye of a good-looking man standing to the left of Bucky and smirked teasingly. He pressed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek and held him tighter. “Maybe I should go mingle a little bit.”_

_He let out a delighted laugh when Bucky’s head shot up and he whirled around to glare at the man eyeing Tony._

_“Wow,” Tony said as he watched the guy run off into the crowd. “Your stare really is something else, babe. And you know I was teasing. I only want to mingle with you, you saft thing.”_

 

Bucky had lied to him. He wasn’t Bucky. He was the Winter Soldier. And Tony wasn’t getting out of here.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky rolled his eyes and let out a huff of amused laughter, ducking his head as a stapler went flying.

“Okay, okay,” he called as he sat back up and batted Clint’s hands away as they reached for his pen pot. “Stop trashing my office. Aren’t you meant to be working, anyway?”

Bucky had largely ignored the fight that he had walked into, but when Natasha had nearly taken his head off with a metal paper-weight, he knew he had better call it to a close sooner rather than later. He wasn’t sure when all of his co-workers, and friends, had decided unanimously that his office was their daily hangout spot, but he didn’t mind so much… when they weren’t in the middle of a fight and throwing his possessions.

“My shift ended at 6.30,” Natasha said haughtily, collapsing onto the large couch in the middle of the room.

“And mine doesn’t start until 8,” Clint added, walking behind Natasha and smacking her on the back of her head. Bucky rolled his eyes again as she in turn twisted around and hit Clint with a cushion; he worked with actual children.

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re both in my office.”

“It’s the sweet spot between the two of us working,” Clint replied as he jumped over the back of the couch and flopped down on the couch, “and you have the best chips up here.”

“There’s a reason that they’re up here and not downstairs for everyone to get their hands on,” Bucky said dryly as he turned to Natasha, “but whatever. That’s why he’s here at least. What’s your excuse?”

“You know why I’m here,” she replied and Bucky nodded.

“I do. But that doesn’t explain why you’re making a mess. I expected you to be sitting quietly waiting for me.”

Natasha laughed as she tucked her legs up beneath her body and Bucky rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why I try. Have you got the papers from the latest shipment?”

“Not any legitimate ones, no, but I can get you something out of the van if you need a copy?”

Bucky scoffed. “Scrounge something up, will you? We’ve managed to somehow get an audit at some point next month and I need something to show the dickhead that’s gonna turn up.”

Clint threw his feet up onto the coffee table in front of him and laughed loudly.

“What happened to the last guy? All we had to do last time was wave a wad of cash and he didn’t need any papers.”

Bucky smirked as he flicked his laptop open. “Tell me about it. Spineless little shit. Or greedy, I guess. Either or.”

Natasha gave him a wicked grin. “I could show him around if you like, take the meeting so you don’t have to waste your time.”

“I think we need to keep him in one piece this time, but thanks for the offer. You can have the tax man, though.”

Natasha’s laugh wasn’t something they got to hear very often, but it was a lovely sound. “I love the tax man.”

“Ugh, I hate it when you make that noise. It always means something bad is coming my way.”

Bucky rolled his eyes when Clint spoke, which prompted his two friends to start to bicker once more. He turned his attention back to his laptop, checking bullshit emails about the club and enquiries about bookings. He had so much more important stuff to be doing that answering that crap. He didn’t care about paying people to come in and play; he was always on the lookout for the bands that would pay _him_ to let them in.

“Hey.” Bucky looked up when Clint threw a piece of candy corn at him. His friend was damn lucky that Bucky’s gun was in his drawer and not in his hand. And that it was candy that Bucky actually liked. If it had been an m&m, Clint would have a bullet in him somewhere. “Where’s Tony?”

_Huh_. Bucky checked the time and furrowed his brow. “I have no idea.”

“Wasn’t he meant to be here by now?”

“Yeah, actually, he was.” Bucky hummed absentmindedly and pulled his phone out, his frown growing more prominent when the screen showed no notifications. “Have you heard from him?”

“Nah, that’s why I asked.” Clint took a mouthful of candy and held up his cell. “I texted him and I didn’t get a reply.”

“He's always on his phone; even if he's asleep it wakes him up. Especially if he has to be somewhere and he was meant to be here,” Bucky glanced down at his watch again and cursed, “over two hours ago.”

“He’s always late,” Sam called from the couch, finally looking up from his papers. He’d managed to stay well out of the small fight that his friends had had, but now he chimed in. “That’s literally Tony’s personality.”

“Not three fucking hours,” Bucky snapped fiercely.

“Okay, okay. What do you want to do?”

“I’m gonna call him. Sam, can you answer this bullshit? I really don’t care about any of it.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but got up obligingly, walking over to Bucky’s desk and dropping into his vacated chair. Bucky grabbed his phone, punching his thumb onto the screen angrily. His worry grew stronger the longer the phone rang.

“Tony,” Bucky said after the voicemail had left its beep, “where are you? You were meant to be here two hours ago. Did you get caught up at work again?”

.

“Hey, Tony. Seriously, babe, it’s been nearly three hours. You better not be asleep.”

.

“Actually, if you’re asleep, I might let you off – you need sleep. But if you’re grading papers, I’m gonna throttle you.”

.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Bucky said, worry bleeding into his tone and one hand twirling a strand of hair around his fingers, “you’re worrying me now. Where are you? Do you want me to send someone to pick you up? You can take Clint off my hands for a while.”

.

Bucky made one more call.

“Tony. Unless you ring me right now, I’m going to come and get you myself. Where the fuck are you? If you’re asleep on your desk, I’ll kill you. I’ll kiss you and then I’ll kill you.”

.

“Lovingly, of course. But I will kill you.”

.

Bucky jabbed his finger onto the screen angrily, ending yet another voicemail. Where the hell was Tony and why wasn’t he answering his phone? Sure, his boyfriend was forgetful, but he always kept his phone on him. Tony’s job was so important to him and he needed to have his phone charged to answer his emails. It was definitely on anyway, because it was ringing out, not going straight to voicemail.

“Have you gotten through to him?”

Bucky threw his phone down onto the desk and looked up at Natasha. “No. His phone isn’t off, but he’s not answering.”

“You sure he’s at the office? He might be at home.”

“Yeah.” Bucky kept his eyes on his phone as if it would start ringing any second. “He had a meeting after his last class and then he was coming straight here. He wouldn’t have gone home; it’s the other direction.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “So go and find him, then. You know where he works; drag him over here.”

“Wow, Tash. Thanks so much for the support.”

“Oh, shut up. I’ll go relieve Steve from the backroom.” When Bucky lifted an eyebrow, Natasha shot him a wink, “and takeover the questioning. When he’s cleaned his hands, he can go and get Tony.”

Bucky softened a little and gave half a smile.

“Try reception,” Natasha said. “Ask them if Tony’s clocked out yet. They might send someone up if he hasn't.”

“And if he has?”

Natasha sighed and picked up the receiver of the landline, thrusting it at her boss as she dialled the number. Bucky grabbed it from her and held it against his ear, sitting up a little straighter when a delicate female voice answered happily.

“Good evening,” he started smoothly. “I'm ringing for Tony Stark. He's late, again, and I was wondering if you could patch me through?”

Bucky's face fell when he heard the woman's reply. “You're sure he... mhm, yes – I just... at 4 o'clock? Are you sure?”

He sighed when he got yet another confirmation and he nodded understandingly. “Thank you. I'm – No, no, please don’t worry. I’m sure he’s fine; you know what Tony’s like. I’ll send him in in the morning with a box of chocolates to apologise for worrying you.”

Bucky laughed at the reply he got. “Sunflowers? That I can do. Thanks again, Marie.”

Despite his friendly words, Bucky all but threw the receiver down into the cradle with a loud curse. “He's not there. He left at 5 o’clock. Where the fuck is he?”

Bucky was trying hard not to panic, but when he saw the look of worry on Natasha’s face, he knew he wasn’t overreacting. He picked up the landline again and pressed the button for an internal call, breathing deeply. Before he could connect the call, there was a knock at the door.

“What?” he snarled when it creaked open and a face appeared in the gap.

“Sorry,” the kid squeaked, “but something just came for you. I noticed it on the bar. Didn’t see who left it, but it’s got your name on it.”

Bucky held his hand out and beckoned for the envelope. He tried to smooth out his expression; this kid was a relatively new hire but he showed great potential. He wasn’t really a kid, either, but he was at least 10 years younger than Bucky, so it counted.

When the envelope was in his hand and ripped open, the bottom dropped out of Bucky’s world. Throwing his hand up and pointing to the exit with a glare in a silent message to the messenger, Bucky grabbed the phone again.

 “Steve, I need you up here.”

_“I'm in the–”_

“I don't give a shit,” Bucky growled angrily. “Put someone else on; tell them I'll pay them time and a half. I just need you up here now.”

_“Okay, okay. Calm down, Buck. Give me five minutes.”_

“You’ve got two,” Bucky snarled before he ended the call with a jab of his thumb.

 

 /

 

“Okay, I'm here.” Steve closed the door behind him as he entered the office, looking around the grim faces of his friends before he came to a stop in front of Bucky's desk. “What's wrong?”

“It's HYDRA.”

At Bucky's dark voice, Steve was reaching for his gun, eyes flickering around the room immediately as though expecting someone to jump out at him.

“What? What’s HYDRA?”

“We don't know that it’s HYDRA,” Natasha chimed in, ever the voice of reason.

“Why else have we all been called up here?” Clint said sarcastically, a rare bite in his words. “It wasn’t for a cupcake. Nothing else gets Bucky to make that fucking face either.”

“Bucky,” Steve turned to his friend, hand still on his handgun as he held Bucky’s gaze. “What's happened?”

“Tony,” Bucky spat out. “They got Tony.”

 

 /

 

“Okay, so you don’t know it’s them,” Steve said diplomatically and Bucky scoffed. As soon as he’d seen Bucky’s face and the way his steady hands shook ever so slightly, Steve had kicked everyone else out of the office to talk to his friend.

“Who else, Steve?”

“Buck, come on. You–”

Bucky threw down a picture of Tony, cutting Steve off. It was a perfect shot of the man coming out of his office, his attention on the conversation he was having through his cell, arm cradling a stack of books to his chest. There was a second picture behind the first, but all it showed was an empty warehouse. It was ominous and sent a very clear message; one that Bucky was _not_ happy about. Steve sighed deeply and fell forward, resting his forearms heavily on Bucky’s desk.

“Shit,” he muttered softly. “When did you get this?”

“I don’t know. Like an hour ago?” Bucky closed his eyes and lifted his hand to run through his hair. “It was delivered to the club. No one knows who left it apparently, just that it was in a plain brown envelope with my name on it. I’ve got them checking the security cameras now, but they said it’s been a busy evening.”

“Just the one picture?”

“Of Tony, yeah. A fucking perfect shot of my fucking boyfriend leaving his office delivered to me on the same day that he seemingly goes missing and I can’t get a hold of him.”

Steve pushed himself back up and paced the room.

“Who?”

“That I don’t know.” It pained Bucky to say it, but he didn’t know who had orchestrated the kidnapping. “It’s _him_. It fucking has to be, but I don’t know how.”

“We’ll get Tony back, Buck.”

“We’ll take down HYDRA.”

Steve didn’t look the slightest bit taken aback at the venom in Bucky’s voice and Bucky felt a surge of pride course through him. He knew he had made the right decision all those years ago when he had told HYDRA he had no interest. He’d been approached when he was just a young kid, not really old enough to know what he was doing, but he’d known he wasn’t interested. Yes, he had considered it, but when…

Bucky hated to be betrayed and he’d learnt pretty quickly that they were bad people. Bad with a capital B. And sure, it wasn’t like Bucky and his crew were saints, but they’d had some semblance of right and wrong. Even just a tiny amount, which was more than HYDRA.

“ _He’s_ had it out for me since I turned down his offer,” Bucky said darkly, “and took away his best bruiser.”

“Clint’s happier here than he ever would have been with them.”

Bucky smiled thinly. “Oh, I know. And HYDRA are more pissed than ever. How the fuck could he do this to me? Hasn’t he done enough?”

Bucky took a breath to collect himself, jaw tight and eyes flashing dangerously when he spoke again. “I know he has no compassion, but this is a line you don’t fucking cross. Get everyone together. We need a plan.”

 

/

 

Bucky looked around at the faces of his friends, his gang members, and held their gazes one by one.

“This is it,” he started, letting all of his anger flood his tone. “From now on, it’s more serious than it ever was before. You don't do this shit. Not this far. We fight in the streets, we steal and we beat. We don't kidnap innocents.”

Well, they _tried_ not to at least. Maybe one or two got caught up sometimes.

“No more,” Bucky concluded, fire in his eyes, his cheeks flushed and his jaw locked, “this all ends here. You can walk out now or you can stand and fight by my side. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I am not backing down. I’m never going to give in, not this time. I’m ending HYDRA once and for all and I want you all with me.”

“Where are we starting?”

There was barely a moment after Steve spoke before Natasha lifted her hand. “I’m in.”

“When?” Sam and Clint asked their question at the same time, hi-fiving each other without looking when they realised.

Bucky smiled at the immediate replies from his family, lips pulled back to reveal bright teeth.

“Tonight. I’m starting this tonight.”

 

/

 

Bucky wished he was reaching for a bottle as he picked up his knife. Turning it over in his hands, Bucky sighed deeply. He wanted to drink away his troubles, drink until he forgot about the Tony-shaped hole in his life. He hadn’t seen Tony in two days - which in itself wasn’t unusual when Tony had a lot of papers to mark or a busy day of lectures - but now he really wanted Tony with him. That might have been dramatic, but he didn’t know what was going to happen in the next coming days.

_Getting drunk wouldn’t do anyone any good,_ he thought unhappily. He needed to be alert and coherent throughout this time. They all knew who Tony was with, but they had no idea where he was. It was important that they kept their cool, biding their time until they were prepared to attack and he needed to keep a clear head for that.

“Buck?”

Bucky turned to the voice, tucking the knife into the waistbands of his pants and reaching for a gun.

“Yeah?” he asked, weighing the pistol in his palm.

“You okay?”

Bucky scoffed at Steve’s question.

“Of course you aren’t okay,” Steve corrected himself, knowing Bucky inside and out, “but you know you can talk about it, right? I’m here, Buck.”

Bucky couldn’t quite muster up a smile, but he leaned into the hand that Steve placed on his shoulder. He knew Steve was there for him, he would never doubt that for a single moment.

Bucky turned away again and looked back down to the arsenal of weapons that he laid on the table. He reached out and picked up a pistol, weighing it in his hand. Pistols weren’t his favourite weapon, but he couldn’t deny that they were effective. Especially this one. It was a small and compact weapon, but it packed a punch, a _real_ punch, and Bucky could admit that he was eager to use it.

 

/

 

Bucky could remember the first time that he had seen Tony Stark. Steve had dragged him to some boring lecture with a title that Bucky could barely decipher and a subheading that only confused him more.

_“Oh, come on, Stevie. You can’t seriously want to go to this.”_

_Steve just rolled his eyes, pushing forward and not looking back._

_“Nobody said you had to come with me,” he pointed out and Bucky bit his tongue._

_That was true, but Bucky was never going to pass up on a chance to spend time with his best friend._

_“We’re still going to dinner after, right?” he asked after a pause, “I’m gonna need to eat after a nap. And this lecture is gonna be one giant nap for me.”_

_But then Bucky had walked into the theatre to see one of the most beautiful men that he’d possibly ever seen. The man had introduced himself as Tony Stark and Bucky had been hooked. He hadn’t understood a single word that left Stark’s mouth, mind you, but he’d been so interesting to watch as he’d danced around the huge blackboard at the front of the lecture hall._

_“Wow,” Bucky breathed when the lights went back up and the lecture was finished._

_Steve turned to Bucky with shock written all over his face and Bucky realised his mistake._

_“I was about to say that,” Steve said slowly, “but I really wasn’t expecting you to say it too. What do you mean ‘wow’?”_

_Bucky coloured a little and shuffled in his seat. “I thought it was very interesting.”_

_Steve lifted an eyebrow. “You,” he started, eyes narrowing suspiciously the more he looked at his friend, “you honestly thought that a lecture on engineering was interesting?”_

_“Yes,” Bucky said defensively, “I did.”_

_“And it wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that the lecturer was exactly your type?”_

_Bucky sighed at Steve’s knowing tone, but he wouldn’t give in and agree with him._

_“Was he?” he asked instead, forcing his tone to come out as casual and uninterested, focusing his attention on the sidewalk in front of him. “I was too absorbed in the transient analysis and the fluid structures and the… science.”_

_Steve laughed when Bucky trailed off. “Right. The science.”_

 

Bucky hadn’t stopped thinking about that beautiful, clever man since that afternoon. Bucky was a bit of a cocky shit and he knew that he was attractive, but there was no way that he would ever be worthy of Tony Fucking Stark. Not only was the guy a teacher, he had some ridiculous amount of PhDs under his belt that just made Bucky’s college degree pale into comparison. Pale into nothing, really.

Just like everything else about him.

Anyway, Bucky was a criminal. Sure, he gave to charity and he helped people where he could, his club was an LGBTQA+ friendly space, but he was still a mob boss, however you looked at it. He would never be worthy of Tony Stark.

He watched from afar though.

 

_“Hey.”_

_Bucky jumped a mile high when Steve appeared next to him. Steve laughed when Bucky turned to glare at him._

_“Sorry,” he said, though he clearly wasn’t. “What were you staring at so intensely?”_

_Bucky lifted a shoulder and looked away quickly. Steve smiled and stepped closer to the window._

_“Hm,” he thought out loud as he surveyed the patrons, “is it the blondes by the bar?”_

_Bucky gave into the teasing and shook his head, making Steve turn back for another look._

_“The two guys out on the dancefloor? Those ones doing the, huh, the foxtrot, I think that is. They seem like your type.”_

_Bucky wrinkled his nose and Steve let out another booming laugh._

_“Okay, okay. Oh look, there’s a big party. Birthday, I think. That’s cool. Hey, wait – isn’t that the guy from that lecture?”_

_Bucky felt his face heat up like a beacon and, as Steve turned back to him, he knew it was over. He tried to school his features into something nonchalant, but he didn’t stand a chance. It was amazing that Bucky led an entire mob, quite frankly. But, then again, it was Steve and Bucky had never been able to lie to Steve, not since they were tiny little things on the playground._

_“It is!” Steve crowed, eyes flicking between Bucky and the party in one of the booths on the club floor, fingers pointing excitedly. “It’s that professor from the college, the engineering guy! Oh my God, did you invite him here?”_

_“No,” Bucky muttered sullenly, finally opening his mouth. “No, I didn’t invite him. I’ve never even spoken to him. I just happened to notice him. It looks like he’s come in with the party.”_

_“Damn, Buck. What’s his social security number?”_

_Bucky growled at his friend’s teasing and glared when Steve reached out to sock him in the shoulder. “I told you I didn’t invite him here.”_

_“Just go and talk to him. It’s your club; flash some cash.”_

And then one day he had a chance to possibly show that he could be worthy of Tony.

_Bucky was standing by the window again; his usual Thursday night spot now. Thursdays seemed to be Tony’s preferred night – and wasn’t it sad that Bucky knew that?_

_It didn’t take him long to catch sight of Tony as he entered the club and walked over to the bar. God, Bucky wished he could just go down and talk to him, actually strike up a conversation. Of course, it wouldn’t take Tony two minutes to realise that Bucky was a waste of time and to walk away, but at least Bucky would hear that voice again. That deep and silky voice that starred in so many of his fantasies. That voice that would wrap around Bucky like a warm blanket, those thick lips that would form Bucky’s name so beautifully._

_He was so lost in another dream that he almost missed the man walking up behind Tony. Bucky growled when the man’s arms went around Tony’s waist and the red mist descended. He was out of the office and down the stairs that led out to the club floor before he even realised what he was doing._

_“Boss?”_

_The flashing lights, loud music and the confused calls from some of his employees didn’t seem to register with him as he kept going, his eyes locked on the asshole that dared to touch his Tony._

_Forget the intellectual difference, forget the fact that they had never spoken. Tony was Bucky’s. Bucky wanted him and Bucky would have him. What Bucky wanted, Bucky got. And he fucking wanted Tony Stark._

_When Bucky drew close enough to hear what was being said, it was damn lucky – for this fucker, anyway – that he didn’t have his knife on him. It would have been buried in the bastard’s back before he’d have time to flex his fingers on Tony’s hip one more time._

_“You’ll love it, I promise.”_

_Bucky could wait no longer, just the guy’s voice making the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his hands curl into fists._

_His club was not the place for harassment and, boy, was this dickhead about to find that out. The hard way._

 

Tony had been nothing like Bucky was expecting, but, God, was he amazing. Bucky loved him like he’d never loved anyone before. It was a different love to the one he had for Steve, but it almost felt like the two men weighed equally in his heart. That terrified him; no one had ever come close to being as important to him as Steve was, ever. Luckily, Steve adored Tony and he’d fit into their little family perfectly.

Bucky was going to kill whoever had fucked this up.

 

/

 

He should have known something like this was going to happen. Nothing ever went right for Bucky, not without a little blood spilled.

Bucky had always mixed with the bad crowd, even as a young boy. It had all started as a way to protect his best friend. Steve Rogers had been such a small child that he got lost in a crowd of four people and so thin that a single gust of wind could knock him right over, which had attracted a lot of unwanted attention. As a result of his small stature, Steve had been picked on mercilessly on the school playground, bullied for years until Bucky had decided to do something. It hadn’t taken long for Bucky to come to the conclusion that hitting was a good place to start, and once he had shown his strength, – a surprisingly impressive amount for such a young boy – he had turned his charm on the other kids who responded poorly to his fists. It had taken a while for those ones to come around, but they all did eventually.

Once he’d won a few over, he had acquired a following pretty quickly. Not only did his popularity continue through to high school, it grew each year. Even when Steve himself underwent a frankly ridiculous growth spurt until he was well over six feet tall and broad with muscles, the two of them remained as thick as thieves.

Bucky’s local fame began to spread through parties he threw, or gang members that he beat in fights. Once he graduated high school, it became clear that he needed to do something ‘productive’ with the following that he had amassed. It started with more parties; house parties that became more like frat parties, with payment at the door and donations to the booze fund. When he had queues down the street and people years older than him volunteering to buy alcohol for him, Bucky realised that he had a good thing going. Once he’d made that realisation, he’d sat down with Steve and drawn up a plan.

It hadn’t taken them long to raise enough money to rent a bar. It was an absolute dive, but it was _theirs_. The landlord had been a total sleaze, easily intimidated by Steve’s bulging muscles and Bucky’s shining pocket knife so the rent was easily affordable. Add in a couple of collected shipments from alcohol deliveries that ‘got lost’ on their way to nearby bars and Bucky was laughing.

Word had gotten out quickly that not only was this a decent place to hang out, but also that Bucky Barnes took no shit and was more than prepared to fight. Within 10 years, Bucky’s dive bar had upgraded to a nightclub and his ‘frat’ had become a mob. He was aware that he ran a mob, some of its members worse than others, but he was comfortable.

He was proud of his work. Bucky fought for what was right – in his mind, at least. He didn’t corrupt or bribe people in authority. Well, not too many people. Only a few cops to keep him out of jail when things got particularly bad. And a member of government – but only on a local level. Nothing too up there.

And Bucky didn’t allow rioting and out of control violence within his mob. Drugs and trafficking were two things that he didn’t touch in anyway – with the exception of a small weed side business, but that was nothing really. He helped old ladies across busy streets and carried their shopping home for them, and then he went home and cut someone who had wronged him. Bucky was a conman, an intimidator and a thief. He took money and alcohol, largely from those who deserved the loss and would never even miss it. And if that intimidation became more physical sometimes, the target deserved it. Usually.

Their bosses deserved it, at least, and they would get the message soon enough. It wasn’t exactly legal and it wasn’t morally right, not by a long shot. Bucky usually refrained from that side of things these days, though, choosing to put on more of a legitimate front for the police that had begun to take notice.

Sure, Bucky carried a loaded gun and a pair of brass knuckle, his favourite knife always stuck down the back of his pants, but they were for protection. Protecting his family, his turf. Protecting his image and his livelihood.

So that he could keep safe what was his. And that meant Tony Stark.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a dream. It had all just been a really, really bad dream. The nightmare to end all nightmares.

Except, when Tony opened his eyes, he was still in a huge warehouse, tied to a chair and freezing cold. Bleeding, too. Fuck.

He had been walking from the office. Tony was struggling to remember what had happened, but he could remember that. He’d been leaving work and had said goodbye to Marie.

_“Goodnight, Professor.”_

_“Night,” he said absentmindedly, his brain running over the midterm questions he still needed to write. “See you tomorrow.”_

_He could ask about dynamic and transient analysis, Tony thought to himself. That was always a good first question. Fluid structure interactions tripped people up  too, and would make them actually do the reading next time. He needed to write all of this down, but, just as he was reaching for a pen, his phone started ringing._

_“Crap,” he muttered. Of course, he’d forgotten to call Bucky and tell him he was running a little later than usual. He shifted his stack of books to one arm and then he heard… yelling?_

That was all he remembered. _Come on,_ he chastised himself. There had to have been more than that. He thought back a little further, dropping his head onto his chest as he tried to recall.

_Yelling. What the hell? Tony looked around himself, but he couldn’t see anyone. He shook his head and turned back, jumping a mile high when he saw a man standing incredibly close to him and blocking his path._

_“Um,” Tony started, “excuse me. Can I just–”_

_The man smiled widely, a horrible grin that made the hairs on the back of Tony’s neck stand up._

_“Tony Stark?” he said, his voice low and throaty._

_Tony swallowed, eyes dashing from side to side as he tried to find an escape._

_“Yes?”_

_“The boss would like to see you.”_

Tony remembered a little more now. He remembered another guy approaching from behind as well, and the van that suddenly pulled up by the sidewalk. He didn’t have to remember the hit to the back of his head; that he could still feel. Definitely not a dream.

 

/

 

Dark. That wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t the worst either. Tony could work with dark.

It took a moment or two for his eyes to adjust, but, when they did, Tony could see vague outlines. It looked like he was still in the warehouse. Such a stereotypical decision to go down the abandoned warehouse route; absolutely no sense of individuality.

He didn’t want to be here anymore, in a cold and dark room – though probably guarded by who knows how many armed thugs outside the doors and riddled with vermin – with a bruised and broken body. He wanted to be at home, away from this place and these people. In bed, preferably, one with a mattress where he could lie down instead of being tied to a damn uncomfortable chair.

And he really, really didn’t want to be alone anymore, either. Tony sighed softly as he remembered crawling into bed with Bucky. He had always hated going to bed, for a number of reasons, but for some reason Bucky had always made it seem like less of a chore. He would even go as far as to say that he looked forward to going to bed when Bucky was the one calling him there.

_"Bed time."_

_Tony waved a dismissive hand as he hummed noncommittally, eyes still glued to the papers in front of him._

_"Tony, I'm serious."_

_Bucky's words went unheeded as Tony just nodded again, not lifting his gazed for a moment._

_Bucky sighed and rolled his eyes, slumping back against the doorframe at Tony's distraction._

_"I hate going to bed alone," he started slowly, "if only there was a big, strong man to come with me and keep me company." When Tony continued to ignore him, Bucky changed tactics. "Guess I'll have to get myself off tonight, then."_

_Before Bucky had even closed his mouth at the end of his sentence, Tony had pushed his papers from his lap and thrown his glasses down onto the table, standing from the couch to head into the bedroom._

_“I'm going to bed,” he said as he dashed from the room, Bucky following at a more sedate pace and his laughter bouncing off the walls._

If Tony tried hard enough, he could pretend that the darkness of the warehouse was merely a late night in his bedroom back at home and that the massive pains in his body weren’t there; they were just twinges after a perfect night with his boyfriend.

_“Good morning.”_

_Tony felt Bucky’s whisper against his skin and shivered at his cool breath, the hairs on his arms standing up at the sensation._

_“Good morning,” Tony replied just as softly, rolling over onto his back and opening his arms to pull Bucky into his embrace. “Sleep well?”_

_Tony’s words ended in a soft groan as Bucky began to press biting kisses along the underside of his jaw, Bucky’s stubble catching on his skin in a delicious way._

_"I always sleep well when I'm with you, darlin'."_

Tony had managed to lose himself in his memories long enough for the darkness to turn to a watery sunlight and startled back into the present when a door behind him slammed open and he jumped, wincing as the zip-ties around his wrists caught on his cuts. _Here they go again,_ he thought drily and took a deep breath to steel himself.

“Feel like talking yet?”

Tony didn't recognise the voice of the man that had spoken, but he took notice of the light Russian accent that could be faintly heard. It made sense that this guy was the boss, or at least a more senior member of the gang than the others that Tony had met.

The man drew to a halt behind Tony and, as soon as he stopped walking, all of his henchmen ceased moving as well, the warehouse falling into silence once more. _Definitely the boss, then,_ Tony decided.

“Well?” the man asked, his voice curling around Tony horribly and his hot breath making the hairs on Tony’s neck stand up. “Are you ready to divulge yet? Surely you don’t enjoy being here?”

“Of course I do,” Tony replied brightly, keeping his eyes straight ahead of him and his posture as straight as it would go. “How could I not, with such sparkling company? I don’t think we’ve met yet, you and I, though you seem to know who I am. That rather puts me at an unfair advantage, don’t you agree? I think it does,” Tony continued casually, as though this was a normal, everyday sort of conversation. “So, who are you?”

There was a huff of laughter and the presence disappeared from behind Tony, footsteps starting again as the man walked around Tony’s chair. Tony appraised the man in front of him when he settled, taking in the sharp jawline of the man and his thick, dark hair. He was a handsome man, but Tony felt nothing more than contempt.

“Bossman, I presume?”

“Brock Rumlow,” the man replied with a smirk, his eyes dancing smugly. “Not quite the ‘bossman’, as you so put it, but I’m up there.”

Tony wasn’t an idiot. He’d heard of Brock Rumlow.

There was no living in New York and not knowing who that man was, but he had never expected to be caught up in it. There were all kinds of rumours flying around that were definitely _not_ true, though it was certain that Rumlow was very high up in HYDRA. The real name of its leader was a secret that few actually knew. Mobs had always seemed like something from movies and Tony hadn’t ever thought that he would have been kidnapped off the street by a fucking mob. He had sort of put two and two together and realised from the start that this was a serious deal and not just a rookie job, but he’d been in denial.

This was real life, not a Hollywood blockbuster, for Christ’s sake. Tony was just a normal guy; this wasn’t meant to happen to him. None of this was meant to happen to him.

“I would let you go.” Tony lifted his head and squinted through a black eye at the man in front of him wiping his hands on a rag. “If you told me what I asked for, I would let you go.”

Tony found the strength from somewhere to scoff, the noise hurting his throat, but, oh, so necessary at the same time.

“No, you wouldn’t,” he spat out, earning himself a laugh.

“Nah, you’re right. I probably wouldn’t. It’s a chance, though, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know the answers,” Tony maintained. He set his jaw and lifted his chin, staring defiantly at Rumlow. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

The darkness that followed the next punch was almost a relief.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky rolled up his sleeves, gearing himself up to deliver a stern ‘talking to’. He slowly circled the man sitting in the hard chair in the middle of the room, his eyes hardening with every step. Atlas was a member of HYDRA that Bucky’s men had grabbed earlier that day. He was a cocky bastard with far too much swagger. Bucky had always hated him to be honest, and this was the opportunity that he needed. It had been his personal pleasure to have him dragged in from the street and it was definitely his pleasure to rough him up. Atlas was a close friend of Rumlow’s as well; if anyone would know what Bucky wanted, it would be Atlas.

“Where is he?”

Atlas didn’t flinch at Bucky’s vicious tone and kept his eyes trained on the wall in front of him even as his lips twitched upwards.

“You don’t want to tell me?” Bucky asked. “Because I can drag it out of you, I don’t care. If you don’t want to talk, we can just play instead.”

He’d barely ended his sentence before he swung, Bucky’s fist catching the man’s ribs quickly and causing him to double over with a loud grunt.

“You and I both know you know who’s got him,” Bucky said as he examined at his hand casually. “You could just tell me where and I’d let you go.”

The HYDRA thug gave no reaction to Bucky’s words and Bucky sighed in exaggerated disappointment.

“Well, if you want to play it that way…” he started and this time his fist connected with the guy’s cheek, his pale skin reddening immediately.

It was therapeutic actually, Bucky mused as he left another dark bruise on the dickhead’s chest. Who needed therapy? Just lock people in a room with a total prick, throw them a weapon and let them battle it out. It was definitely relaxing, the rhythmic smack of flesh against flash.

The blood pooling on the floor was catching Bucky’s attention as well, the dark red and the sharp tang enticing him. Bucky pulled his favourite knife out of his pocket, liking the fear that sparked in Atlas’s eyes for just a second. He used the knife like it was an extension of his arm, the familiar weight keeping his limb balanced as he used it again and again to make a pattern of criss-crossed cuts over the man’s chest. It would have been a beautiful pattern had it not been for the rivers of blood dripping down through it and the dark stains left on his pants.

 “Come on, Atlas.”

The guy jolted at that and Bucky laughed loudly.

“Oh yeah, did you think I didn't know? You're not so secret,” Bucky whispered menacingly, leaning in close as he pushed the palm of his hand against a particularly deep cut on Atlas’s collarbone. “I know exactly who you are and exactly who you love. And believe me, it is _not_ a nice feeling to lose them.”

 

The more Bucky thought about it as he continued the torture, it was a bittersweet feeling. The satisfying part was watching a member of his rival mob get covered with the marks Bucky left and seeing large cuts blossoming on his skin. The sound of flesh on flesh filling room, but the thoughts running through Bucky’s head were less than satisfying.

Traitorous thoughts of how the same marks appearing on this thug were no doubt appearing on Tony’s skin, how it would be Tony tied to a chair and held captive at the hands of Bucky’s enemies.

Bucky let out a loud cry and threw his knife away in anger, feeling the need to actually hurt the guy with his own hands. The anger flowing through his body made each punch land without much finesse, but with a hell of a lot of force. With every hit that Bucky landed, a new thought came and, with every thought, Bucky’s anger surged and manifested itself in another punch. He lost track of the number of hits that he laid on Atlas until Steve stepped into his vision with his hands up in front of him.

“You might want to cool it a little,” Steve suggested, walking over to Bucky’s side. “We do actually need him to be able to talk.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Bucky wasn't used to conducting interrogations. He gave warnings, sure, and he was damn good at sending messages, but not so much the questioning. Questionings usually meant having to exercise restraint. Bucky wasn’t so good at restraint.

“Just one more hit?” he begged, looking over at Steve with the beginnings of a pout.  

Steve huffed a laugh and nodded down at Atlas between them. His head was hanging forward as he hunched in on himself, bruises already forming on his bare skin and blood dripping steadily onto the floor.

“I think you need to ask your questions now. I don’t think you’re going to get too much more out of him if you keep going. Once you’ve got your answers you can hit him again,” he added and grinned widely at Bucky’s lewd smirk.

“Alright.” Bucky squatted down next to Atlas and tightened his hand in his hair, pulling his head back sharply so that their faces were level. “You ready to talk now? Because I'm not tired, not even a little bit. You might be, though, and it will only get worse until you tell me what you know.”

Atlas shook his head as best he could in Bucky’s grip, spitting out a mouthful of blood that dribbled down his chin.

“I don’t know. I swear to you, they didn’t tell me where he was going.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky yelled as he yanked his fistful of hair down, ignoring the way Atlas screamed with the pain. “You know where he is, you fucking piece of shit. Tell me. Tell me right now, or I swear you’ll never get out of here.”

“I don’t fucking know.”

Atlas’s words were starting to slur and Bucky gave up, bringing his knee up to dig into Atlas’s chest.

“He’s useless. Fucking pathetic little cock.”

 

/

 

“Where is he?”

Steve sighed deeply and let his head fall forward. “I have no idea.”

It was the same answer he had given for nearly two days and Bucky was sick of hearing it. He didn’t want to _not_ know where Tony was; he wanted him safe and happy and held in his arms.

“There has to be–”

“We’ve looked every–” Steve tried to speak over Bucky before Bucky whirled around and glared at him darkly.

“We can’t possibly have looked everywhere,” he snapped at his friend, eyes flashing and voice deep. “If we had looked everywhere, we would have found him. He’s out there, Steve. Tony is out there in the hands of HYDRA being, who fucking knows? Beaten for sure. Fuck, he might even be...”

“Don’t,” Steve cut in sharply. “Buck, don’t. You can’t think like that.”

“Come on,” Bucky scoffed and Steve shook his head.

“No, Buck. He’s not dead. Anyway, don’t you think you would have known by now?”

As much as Bucky wanted to punch something at that, he guessed that it was true. HYDRA sent their messengers whenever they had managed to intercept a delivery or one of their goons beat one of Bucky’s in a card game. They would never have kept something like Tony’s death to themselves; they would be too eager to watch their greatest rival break and crumble.

 

_“Oh.”_

_Tony looked up when he heard someone come into Bucky’s bedroom, letting out a noise of surprise at seeing him in there._

_“Sorry, Tony,” Steve said, his cheeks flushing adorably and his eyes darting away. “I didn’t realise you were here.”_

_“Funny that,” Bucky said lightly, emerging from the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. “My own boyfriend being in my own bed.”_

_“Oh, Jesus, Buck,” Steve said, slapping a hand over his face. “Put some clothes on, wouldja?”_

_Bucky rolled his eyes and Tony laughed._

_“What are you doing here, punk?”_

_“Something’s come up and it needs you,” Steve replied. He removed his hand just as Bucky dropped his towel and let out a disgusted noise. “Ugh. Anyway, I didn’t want to call–”_

_“No,” Bucky said, shuffling into a pair of pants and tying up his long hair into a loose bun. “You were right. Living room?”_

_“You can talk shop in front of me,” Tony said, stretching out in the bed and drawing more attention to his naked form, sweat glistening on his chest. “It’s only a nightclub.”_

_Tony missed the glance shared by the other two men before Bucky waved him off._

_“Wouldn’t want to bore you, doll. You stay here while we go talk and sort it out. I’ll order some takeaway too.”_

_“Pizza?” Tony asked hopefully, tilting his head up to accept Bucky’s soft kiss._

_“Sure. Just give me an hour or so.”_

_Steve cleared his throat meaningfully. “We might have to step out for a minute or two. It’s a troublesome problem.”_

_Bucky hummed, a low growl behind the noise. “Make it two hours and I’ll bring back dessert as well.”_

_Tony nodded, attention already slipping as his eyes slipped closed._

_“Don’t make too much of a mess.” Tony lifted his head when there was silence. “At the club I mean,” he said, looking between his boyfriend and his friend. “I know what you’re like when you get angry and impatient to get home. Make sure you tidy up after yourselves.”_

_Bucky coughed awkwardly and exchanged a sideways glance with Steve before he nodded. “Pretty sure that’s what I employ Pete for.”_

_Tony huffed a laugh, shuffling so that the comforter fell down even further, dangerously close to being indecent. “Get out of here and bring me back my pizza.”_

 

Tony deserved more than Bucky, that was for sure. He deserved someone that could keep him safe, someone that could promise him forever. Tony shouldn’t live looking over his shoulder or with a boyfriend who was hiding half of his life from him.

Bucky never had these sorts of problems. He was direct, he was vicious, he didn’t think twice before cutting someone until their blood was running down his arm. But, with Tony, he changed. He couldn’t be honest, he couldn’t tell the fucking truth. And Tony deserved more.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a little filler chapter. You'll notice how we start to see more of what's going on in Tony's mind now and later we'll look into Bucky. Obviously, this is a confusing time for Tony and he's starting to get really confused. His emotions will be playing out - but they are his thoughts, not mine.

Maybe Tony deserved this. Maybe this was his punishment. He had never been a particularly wild person and certainly not a nasty one, but he had some specs of darkness in his past.

“You hate me, don’t you?” he asked the empty room.

He wasn’t quite sure who he was talking to but, whoever it was, he knew that they hated him. They had to. It was the only explanation for why he was alone in a warehouse bleeding and bruised, being beaten for information about a mob boss. A mob boss who was apparently his boyfriend and who the hell had seen that coming? Not Tony, that’s for fucking sure.

 

 

“You want to talk now?”

Tony groaned when the door behind him opened, not even trying to hide it anymore.

“Sure,” he said, dropping his head back and sighing. “I want to talk. I want to talk about my boyfriend. But,” he continued as the fuckwit in front of him grabbed a chair and straddled it, leaning forward on its back to listen, “I don’t want to talk about him as a mob boss. I want to talk about _Bucky._ I want to talk about how sweet he is, and how soft. About how he brings lunch to my office and cuddles me on the couch in his. I don’t want to think about beatings and fighting; I want to remember date nights and happy times.”

His head hurt and all he wanted to do was lie down and cry. With every breath, Tonywas reminded of the shit-show he was stuck in and he really wanted to think about happier times.

The thug in front of Tony stood up abruptly and kicked his chair away.

“God, you’re disgusting. And naive. You can’t honestly believe that the Winter Soldier is capable of love.”

“And you can’t honestly think I care about your opinion. I know James.”

Tony braced himself for the punch that was coming and spat out a mouthful of blood when it was delivered. It was getting old, but there wasn’t much he could do. He’d never really been one to sit down and shut up, though he was definitely going to try a little more now.

_Definitely._

 

/

 

Tony knew. He had always known, he supposed.

There had been a little part of him that knew why Bucky had two phones and never answered the black one when he was around Tony. He never even looked at it, not emails or texts. Nothing, not even when Tony was there in the office and Bucky was meant to be working.

It was the same part of him that noticed that _Winter_ had a lot of different entrances. There was the front door, the side door, the staff door and the loading bay. Those were pretty normal and Tony wasn’t allowed into the back on his own anyway, but then there was the extra door. It always looked locked to Tony, but he’d seen people slipping through a few times, alway closing it very quickly behind them.

Nothing in him startled at the sight of Bucky undressing at night and pulling a knife from the back of his pants. Nor did Tony flinch at the feeling of a gun at Steve’s waist when they hugged. Tony should have been more surprised at the sounds of screams in the background when he rang Bucky at the wrong time, but he let his boyfriend brush them off as a too-loud film that Steve was watching.

He should have been shocked by the whispers that surrounded his boyfriend or paid more attention to the raised eyebrows that he got whenever he told someone that his boyfriend was the owner of the club _Winter_ downtown. It was like they knew something that he didn’t, but he also never asked to find out.

It was _fucked up._ Tony was normal. He’d always been normal. He hadn’t ever even been in a fight, for crying out loud. The worst thing he had ever done was not signal when changing lanes or maybe that time that he and his childhood best friend had snuck into their high school after hours to pull a senior prank.

He’d gone down the path of education, choosing to teach children how to better themselves and how to make the right choices in life. And now what?

Tony Stark was dating a psychopath. A violent criminal in charge of a mob.

And it seemed as though he had known all along. It mattered, sure. Oh _God_ , did it matter.

But how much?

 

/

 

Tony woke to the sound of hushed voices in the corner of the room. It was rare that his kidnappers stayed in the room to talk business, so Tony quickly closed his eyes again and feigned sleep. That was hard to do as he could feel the pain again now that he was awake, his ribs screaming with every breath. He managed though, just about, and strained to hear what the gang members were saying.

“Have you heard from him?” one of the men was saying.

“Not since yesterday,” another replied. “He usually checks in every night, but he didn’t.”

Tony bit back the smile that wanted to break free at that. Maybe Bucky had gotten to ‘him’; no doubt the boss. Or maybe they were talking about Rumlow.

Tony couldn’t help but picture it in his head. God, he bet Rumlow’s blood was a lovely shade of red and, as gross as it made him feel, Tony almost wished he could see it.

Fuck, he really was going delirious in this place. If he ever got out alive, he wouldn’t be able to look at himself in the mirror.

Just as gleeful thoughts of reuniting with his partner were starting to dance through his head, Tony was brought back to earth by the ringing of a cell phone. It was a cheap ringtone that Tony recognised from the days of flip phones. Eugh.

Not only was he being held hostage, but he was being held hostage by people with _flip phones._

As much as those gross things made sense for a kidnapper, it somehow made the entire ordeal all the more disgusting.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another filler to get a little deeper into Bucky as a person in this sort of situation.

Bucky had never anticipated meeting someone, especially not someone who would take up his whole heart quite like Tony had. He hadn’t been prepared for it, hadn’t expected to fall so quickly or deeply. Ever since he was young, Bucky had known he was gay, but he’d never had the chance to explore it. Sure, he definitely wasn’t celibate – Christ, he’d had more partners than most people had had hot dinners. But he hadn’t had a relationship, never had someone to call his own. Someone that he actually looked forward to seeing, someone who made his apartment seem warmer and someone with whom he could actually picture a future.

“Hey.”

Bucky grunted something in reply when he heard Steve come into his loft. He’d bought the place a few years before he’d even met Tony, but it had been Tony that had made it come alive.

“Are you okay?”

It was Tony’s throw over the back of the couch and his papers littered over the coffee table. He was the one who had bought the coffee machine and the new plates and mugs. Bucky had always eaten at the club but, when Tony had come around, he had been more inclined to cook.

“Buck? Talk to me.”

The bed still smelled like Tony, too. Not that Bucky was getting into the bed, or even sleeping, whilst Tony was out fuck knows where with fuck knows who.

“He’s like you.”

Bucky’s voice was broken, cracked and deep. It was the only outward sign of his pain.

“What?” Steve crossed the room and reached out to touch Bucky’s shoulder. “He’s what?”

“You.” Bucky didn’t shrug Steve off, but he didn’t turn to look at him either. “It’s the only way I can describe it. Losing you would be like losing a limb. It’s like–”

“I know, Buck. I feel it.”

“It’s like that with Tony too. I haven’t known him since I was 4, but it’s the same. It’s that feeling of knowing someone, of having someone know you in every way.”

Mostly every way, anyway. “Someone anticipating your needs and being able to predict their next move. I don’t know – I’m not sure I know how to do this.”

“You don’t have to. Bucky, you’re gonna find him. _We’re_ going to find him and bring him home. And maybe you’ll actually do something about asking him to move in with you.”

Bucky huffed a weak laugh at that and balled his hands into fists. He blew out a breath and let his fingers uncurl.

“Of course we fucking will.”

There was still the question of whether or not Tony was still going to want to be with Bucky after this whole stupid thing, but Bucky didn’t want to think about that. He’d lived with Tony for a few days and he felt like he was spiralling wildly out of control. It was ridiculous; Bucky was better than this. He was a mob boss, for God’s sake. He was impenetrable and never vulnerable.

Being in this life, there was always the chance of a revenge killing so you didn’t fall in love with outsiders. That was their rule. No one got in who could turn their back on you and run for the hills when the going got tough, leaving your heart open and unguarded.

Bucky didn’t want to think of the possibility of Tony not wanting to come home with him. A life without Tony wasn’t one that was worth contemplating.

So he wouldn’t. Bucky was strong and he was going to take back what was his, come hell or high water.


	7. Chapter 7

“Jackhammer, where the fuck are you?”

Tony forgot that he was trying to keep quiet and a bark of laughter escaped him. He’d finally snapped, no question about it. That had to be the only reason that he was laughing in this situation. The man in front of him shot round and glared at him. Fuck.

He pulled his phone away from his ear and ended the call, all the while looking at Tony.

“Did you laugh?” His voice was raspy, deep like dark chocolate and just as bitter.

“Nope,” Tony said quickly, shuffling in his seat even though there was no where he could go. “I didn’t. Just coughed, that was all.”

“Really? Because it sounded to me like you were laughing.”

“Who, me? No, I don’t laugh. Not a very fun-loving person, me. Very serious.”

Tony tried not to flinch when the thug in front of him gripped his hair and pulled him up slightly, but he failed miserably. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t terrified of the hulking mass of muscle before him who was very clearly in the position of power.

“Fox!”

Tony let out a sigh of relief when ‘Fox’ let go of his hair and let him fall back onto the chair.

“I’m here, I’m here.”  _This guy must be Jackhammer_ , Tony supposed. He was tall and lanky, not the stereotypical sort of mobster. Still pretty scary though, with close-cropped hair and a mass of dark tattoos rising up his neck.

“Where the fuck were you?” Fox asked angrily.

“The boss called a meeting. Hardball was filling me in ‘cause we missed it.”

This time, Tony held in his laughter. Jackhammer and Hardball? This gang’s codenames sounded like they were thought up by fourth graders on a playground. What was wrong with good old fashioned nicknames? Or even just their first names; it wasn’t like HYDRA were a massive secret anyway. And Tony was probably going to die in here anyway. What the fuck did their names matter?

“What did he say?”

Jackhammer grinned at Fox’s question and turned to leer at Tony.

“He said the Soldier hasn’t got a clue. He’s not coming; he’s given up on his pathetic little boyfriend.”

_Don’t react,_ Tony chanted in his head. It wasn’t true; it couldn’t be true. Bucky would never leave him. Right?

 

 

/

 

 

Tony lifted his head to see a woman walking into the warehouse. That was new.

“Oh,” Tony said in surprise, his brain speaking before he could really think about what he was saying. “You’re new.”

“I am, darling. To you, at least.” Her voice was husky and deeper than Tony had been expecting. It was weirdly comforting, wrapping around Tony like a hug. “I’ve been biding my time, watching as my friends interrogate you.”

Tony bit his tongue to hold back his scoff. _Interrogate,_ right. If that was what an interrogation was, then Tony was pretty sure that the cop shows had it wrong. The woman was talking again, though, and Tony tried to tune back in.

“I want you to tell me something, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Tony sighed, but honestly he wasn’t that mad. He would much rather take this sleazy and sensual lady than another beating, no matter how little he knew.

“I don’t know anything, but you can ask away,” Tony said, the words coming to him so easily.

He might as well make a recording of him repeating that damn phrase to save his voice.

“When did you meet James?”

Tony eyed her warily, but she seemed genuinely interested. She dropped gracefully into the chair opposite Tony and crossed her long legs, skirt rising up seductively high.

“About two years ago. I went to his club.”

“ _Winter,_ ” she said with a knowing nod. “I’ve heard it’s got a good vibe. Haven’t been in myself, though, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

God, Tony was tired; he just wanted to sleep. It said something about his situation that he was hoping for a punch to knock him into a blissfully-painless sleep.

“Any plans for a wedding?” At Tony’s raised eyebrows, she smiled. “I do love a wedding. What’s not to love? Dressing up and dancing, drinking and eating. All the love in the air – they’re wonderful.”

“No,” Tony finally said. “There aren’t any plans for a wedding.”

There had been, actually. Nothing concrete, but Tony had been thinking about it more and more in recent months. They technically didn’t even live together, with Tony nearly on the other side of town to Bucky’s loft, but Tony was eager to change that. Tony loved Bucky, had known from their first year together that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him.

Well, that had been before this revelation. Finding out your boyfriend was a mob boss tended to derail life plans, believe it or not.

“So, no wedding,” the woman hummed, one hand reaching up to tuck a wayward curl behind her ears. “I guess he never asked? And you don’t live together either, do you? It sounds to me like maybe he was trying to keep something from you.”

Tony swallowed harshly, his fingers curling into fists as best they could in his binds.

“Who are you, then? I didn’t catch the names of all the others, but you’re a little more talkative.”

“Oh, I am. Those guys are definitely the strong and silent types – a bit like your James, actually. My name is Laura Brown.”

She gave a simpering smile, bright red lips pulled back almost Joker style.

“Hm.” _That was a relatively normal name,_ Tony thought to himself. If that was her real name, then she was obviously confident of her place in the gang to tell people that she was a member. Or maybe Tony wasn’t getting out alive. He tried to school his features into something that didn’t belie the panic he felt and took a calming breath. “How did you get mixed up in this sort of thing?”

“Mixed up? Oh, no, my darling. HYDRA is my baby. I didn’t get caught up by accident; I worked hard for this thing of beauty, worked my ass off every damn day until somebody recognised my potential. I’m sure you know the feeling.”

Tony reared back and glared at her. “You and I are nothing alike.”

“Really? So, you never felt like your career was stuck in a rut? You never thought your bosses promoted someone else when it should have been you? Everyone has, darling. It’s okay; you can tell me.”

Tony pressed his lips together and said nothing. Laura sighed and stood up, walking perfectly across the warehouse floor as though she wasn’t in stiletto heels.

“I can help you,” she whispered as she circled him, her hand caressing his shoulders, “you just say the word and I can untie you right now.”

“And what? Join the gang of living nightmares?”

Laura’s laugh was bright and loud, a beautifully feminine sound that was so completely out of place in the warehouse that it made Tony’s head spin. The manic edge to it only intensified as she held Tony’s gaze once more, carefully-defined eyes flashing dangerously.

“A nightmare? Oh no, angel. We are _so_ much worse.”

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this one is kind of rough. Watch out for a beating and graphic knife wounds.

The knife went in so easily. It was like cutting hot butter, so beautifully simple and so perfectly  _satisfying_. The blood that spilled out was such a lovely colour as well. It was the colour that Tony’s cheeks flushed when Bucky entered him just right and the colour of Tony’s lips when Bucky pushed his cock down his throat.

It was the colour of the towels that Tony had bought for Bucky’s bathroom, insisting that they needed to match the new bedspread that he had bought as well. Bucky hadn’t seen the fuss until he’d had a naked Tony writhing and begging against the silk sheets. Tony’s tan against the vibrant red was already stunning, but add in that dark blush and tears of desperation and Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away.

This guy wasn’t squirming in quite the same way, though. Bucky looked down in disdain as he pulled his knife out, the guy gasping and groaning with the sharp action.

“Robert Rickard,” Bucky mused as he held the knife up to the light, watching as drops dripped down his hand. The colour was incredible against the shining silver. “I expected more.”

“Fuck you.”

Bucky stepped to the side quickly just before Rickard spat a mouthful of blood at his feet.

“Original. Come on, Rickard. You know what I want.”

“Fucking scum. You will bow down to HYDRA.”

“Not the answer I was looking for, Rob,” Bucky tutted, “I wanted details.”

Before Rickard could speak again, Bucky swung his arm forward and plunged his knife back into his stomach. The gurgling that left Rickard’s mouth was like music to Bucky’s ears and the blood that dripped onto the floor was intoxicating. There was almost nothing more enticing that holding a man’s gaze as the life drained out of him.

“Are you taking HYDRA down one by one?”

Bucky pulled his knife back out before he turned to acknowledge Steve. “I’m not gonna sit on my ass until we find him. I’m just havin’ some fun.”

Steve grinned and pulled his own knife out from the waistband of his slacks. “I’m all for fun. How did you grab him?”

“Turns out taxi drivers can be bought off very easily.” Bucky wiped his knife on a clean patch on Rickard’s pants. “It wasn’t hard really. They think they’ve got the upper hand and have already broken me, so they’re all letting their guard down a bit. I’ll get them all in time.”

“No doubt,” Steve said as he stepped closer. “Who’s next on the list?”

"I don't know. Grant, maybe? I know he used to hang out with us, back in the day. I reckon he's still around. Either of the Jared's, too, I guess. I always wanted a reason to fuck them up even if they don't know anything."

“We’ll get him.”

Bucky kicked the body on the floor in disgust and nodded along to Steve's firm statement. “I don’t doubt it.”

Steve’s sigh was loud as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “We will, Buck. Even if we have to kill the entire gang before we reach the fucker.”

“Do we have time to do that?” There was no answer to that and Bucky kicked the corpse again. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Hey, Tash.” As Steve spoke into the cell at his ear, Bucky cut the ties around the body’s wrists and ankles. “We need someone to clean up the backroom. You got anyone free?” He paused, waiting a reply, before he nodded. “Yeah, that’ll work. Wait, what? Great… yes, definitely. We’re on our way now. Thanks, doll. Bye.”

Bucky looked up when Steve ended the call.

“She’s got something. Another envelope was left at the club.”

Bucky growled low in his throat, fists clenching and lips pulling back over his teeth. “They’re playing a dangerous game.”

Steve grinned nastily. “They’re gonna lose.”

 

/

 

“Atlas is dead, boss.”

Rumlow gave no visible reaction, eyes on the gun sitting on the desk before him. “Where?”

“What?”

“Where was he found?”

“Outside  _Hive._ ”

Rumlow nodded slowly. “So they know we’ve got Stark, then. Interesting.” He reached out and stroked his fingers over the barrel of the gun lightly. “How was he found?”

“Sir?”

“Atlas.” His voice was even, casually interested instead of angry. “How was his body found?”

“Messily.”

Rumlow grinned manically, eyes dark and dangerous. “It’s a message. They’re close enough to my club to kill my guys, but they haven’t attacked yet. They don’t know where Stark is.”

“They’re going to keep going.”

“Yes.” Rumlow’s smile grew and he stood up from his desk, placing his gun in his holster securely. “Yes, I suppose they are.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

Rumlow laughed. “Not at all. In fact, I’m counting on it.”

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one ever said Bucky was sane. Love makes people a little crazy, sometimes.

“Where are we?”

Bucky stormed into his office, not hesitating for a second before he was asking his friends questions.

“I have scouts all over the city,” Clint told him immediately, moving to stand at Bucky’s side. “As soon as someone hears anything, we’ll be there.”

“I want to hear now. You said you had something.”

Natasha nodded. “They run the bar over on 9th. We’ve got people watching and there’s been a lack of activity there the last couple of days. Apparently most of the crew is there a lot of the time.”

“Burn it to the fucking ground.”

Natasha smiled viciously at Bucky’s snarl. “You got it, boss.”

When she got up and left the room, smile still firmly in place, Steve laid his hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“You sure you want to start a gang-war?”

Bucky laughed and Steve chuckled, shaking his head ruefully.

“How many times, Stevie?” Bucky said, bumping his hip into Steve’s. “We’re shutting them down.”

 

/

 

Bucky had never been much of a pyromaniac – he left that to Sam – but even he could admit that there was something beautifully seductive about watching the business of your enemy burning to the ground.

 _Viper_ was a decent bar, actually, as much as it pained Bucky to admit it. Not that it was a place that Bucky or any of his crew frequented, but they knew about it. It had a good rep and it was one of HYDRA’s most profitable bars. Well, it had been.

The flames were so bright against the dark night sky, myriad shades of yellows and reds and oranges. It was hypnotic and Bucky couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. Maybe it was sadistic and maybe it was going slightly too far… or maybe not. These fuckers deserved it and Bucky wasn’t going to deny the flicker of desire that curled in the base of his stomach.

His mind started to wander to ways to make this situation even better, even hotter. It was barely a minute before images of Tony formed in his mind; Tony on his knees in front of him, his mouth stretched sinfully around a mouthful of Bucky’s cock, shadows on his face caused by the glowing flames behind him. Maybe Tony would even be up to let Bucky fuck him, to bend him over in the cold air and pull his jeans down to his ankles. Watching his enemy’s livelihood burn as he fucked into the love of his life was definitely up there on his list of kinks. He’d just never had the chance to make it a reality before. And who knew if they’d ever get the opportunity now.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (super tiny but super important. Written for faye, because she wanted Tony to be a badass and I agreed)

Tony was a professor and most of his lectures were delivered in a classroom discussing theory instead of putting things into practice in a lab, but that didn’t mean that Tony was stupid.

He could get out of here. He _had_ to get out of here. There was no way that he could stay for a moment more, but how was he meant to do it?

It was hours later, maybe even days, when the opportunity presented itself.

It sat there mockingly. So perfectly useful and yet just out of reach. No matter how far Tony stretched, he couldn’t reach out far enough and so there it sat. Mocking him. Taunting him with how close an escape was, how freedom was almost close enough to touch and yet _just not quite._

So, when it finally happened, it seemed almost planted. It was too perfect and Tony could hardly breathe. He felt as though he was being watched as he threw his chair down and finally closed his hands around the shard of glass.

The fall to the floor was so painful that he couldn’t resist crying out at the hit to his bruised back and the jolt of his broken knee, but it was so worth it. Even when the broken shard dug into his palm, causing even more of his blood to spill from his body, it was worth it. Tony couldn’t even think about where the glass had come from, just that it had suddenly appeared. A perfect piece of glass big enough to be used as a knife.

Where had it even come from?

Tony lost track of how long it took for him to cut through the zip-ties around his wrists, but when it finally fell into two pieces and he could move freely, he could have cried.

 

He was halfway out.


	11. Chapter 11

 “No more HYDRA, huh?”

Steve’s head turned and he appraised Sam. “Problem?”

“Not in the slightest. Just wondering how you’re going to manage it.”

“If you don’t think Bucky’s had a plan forming for the last 12 years, then you’re incredibly wrong.”

“Hm.” Sam sounded impressed as he took a long pull of his beer. “Are we taking over their territory or destroying it?”

“It will all be ours,” Steve promised. “Buck and I have thought it through time and time again.” His face grew darker as he sipped his whiskey. “This just pushed it forward. We’re going to take everything at once now.”

Sam didn’t say anything and Steve kept his eyes on the mirror behind the bar as he spoke again, voice carefully measured.

“If you’re not completely in, get out now. I’ll hold Bucky off while you get out, but I won’t–”

“I’m in.” Sam met Steve’s eyes and smiled. “I am so in.”

There was silence for a moment before the door behind them opened, jolting them out of their quiet.

“Hey. I got the call.”

“Bruce, hi,” Steve stood up and shook Bruce’s hand, lifting a hand to Clint who followed Bruce in. “Thanks for coming.”

“No worries. How is he?”

Natasha shook her head as she came out of the stairwell just then and walked behind the bar. She had been upstairs with Bucky, trying to convince him to wait a few more hours before raiding one of HYDRA’s hangouts.

“Not good. He wants to go right now. Steve, you should probably head up there. He’s mad as hell and not far from a fight. There was a threat about a punch if you didn’t let him go.”

Sam winced as Clint whistled. They’d all been on the receiving end of one of Bucky’s punches and they were not fun. And for Bucky to be mad enough to want to hit _Steve,_ then things had to be bad. Bucky respected the hell out of Steve, listened to him about everything. Except this, apparently.

Steve sighed and nodded, draining his glass. “On it.”

“He told me to tell you all to be ready.”

“We are,” Clint told her, bumping his hip into hers when she sidled up to him behind the bar.

“I’ve checked all that I can,” Bruce said. “Police scanners won’t pick anything up and phone signals will be scrambled until I get the cue.”

Bruce wasn’t really one of the crew, but he was on their side. Bucky had helped him out a few years ago when a corrupt business man had tried to run Bruce’s company into the ground. Bucky had stepped in and taken him down, – more out of concern for his own company on the same block – saving both of their businesses and earning himself a friend for life. Bruce was their go-to-guy for all things technical, watching their phone-lines and cutting alarm systems for covert robberies.

“I knew I could count on you.”

Sam clapped Bruce on the shoulder when he blushed at Natasha’s comment.

“Who wants a drink?” Clint held up a bottle of whiskey and shook it teasingly.

“Fill her up,” Sam said and held out his glass to Clint. They could all handle their liquor pretty well and quite often resorted to a little kick before a job.

They all lapsed into silence for a while before Bruce spoke again.

“Is this a suicide mission?”

Clint smiled at Bruce’s concern and saluted him with his drink. “Nah, don’t worry about us; we’ve got this.”

“Will he really storm in there right now?”

Natasha nodded and busied herself filling up Bruce’s glass. “Bucky’s obsessed with Tony. He was ready to go in the first minute.”

“I mean, I don’t blame him,” Bruce said, spinning the tumbler between his fingers, “but are we sure he’s going in with a clear head?”

Sam laughed as he downed his drink. “When has he ever had a clear head?”

 

/

 

Bucky was losing it. Like, actually losing it. He’d lost count of the number of glasses he had smashed and the amount of holes he’d put in the walls of the club. Luckily, they were ready for a fight as he’d sharpened every knife in their arsenal and cleaned every gun they owned.

He was sat at his desk, eyes on the framed photo of Tony as he twirled his favourite knife around his fingers. He had always hated waiting; ever since he was a child, he had always been impatient, and he had never been in a situation like this before, so his impatience was through the roof.

What else was there that he could do? Bucky had thought about storming the HYDRA headquarters, but he didn’t have enough information and Steve had held him back. They didn’t know where they operated from. Of course, they knew the club on the other side of town, but that wasn’t their base.

That hangout had been one last shot. When Steve had finally let him go, they’d been too late. It had been an utter failure and Bucky had no clue what he would do next. They’d gone in all guns blazing to find that the place had been abandoned save for a few fall-guys. The ensuing fight had barely been worth it and there was no trace of a HYDRA boss having ever been there, never mind a clue to where Tony was being held.

 

Now, back in Bucky’s office, Natasha was saying something to Sam over on the couch, Steve hovering by them and throwing worried looks over to Bucky every now and then. Bucky ignored them all, blocking out Steve’s concern and whatever shit Natasha was muttering about in favour of glaring insistently at the picture on his desk and plotting his next move.

 

Bucky and his crew had pulled in four of HDYRA’s gang members now, but they’d been completely expendable and hadn’t known shit. Bucky had pulled out his best moves, too, days of anger and worry building up until he exploded, and they still hadn’t cracked.

Their boss would have gotten the message though, with the way Bucky had left them, bruised and broken and dead in warning.

And that part was just for fun.

  
  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

“Come on,” he urged himself in a harsh whisper, legs straining and head pounding. “Keep going.”

Tony felt like he had been moving for years. His body was tired. When his knees gave out and he fell to the floor, Tony let out a dry sob. It was utter torture to even move at a snail’s pace. Blood dripped down his chin where his teeth had cut into his bottom lip in an attempt to hold in his cried. He’d only gone about 40 feet. His legs were totally fucked, his knee throbbing incredibly with even the smallest movement. Breathing seemed impossible as well, his lungs screaming at him every time he swallowed the smallest bit of air.

He’d crawled out of the warehouse painstakingly slowly, his heart beating loudly enough that he was convinced someone would come running in with guns raised. The first feel of the sunshine on his face nearly sent him crazy. It was only a weak light, a watery sun through a few hazy clouds, but it was enough to burn his eyes.

 

What could he do? There was no chance of him actually being able to escape, to run any further. He was in some sort of industrial park, he could tell that much. There were warehouses all around him. They all looked pretty rundown, though. Open and empty. It was the perfect place to keep a hostage, Tony supposed. Quiet and isolated, run down enough that nobody was using it but not so run down that it was about to be built on. Tony was utterly screwed now. There was no way that he could even drag himself to the edge of the park, never mind actually crawl home.

Not that he knew which direction home was, for that matter.

 

The tears finally came when Tony saw the phone. It was a shitty, beaten-up payphone that looked years out of date and made Tony cringe with the dirt caking it, but it was a _phone_. It was a form of communication with the outside world. It was a way of talking to _Bucky._

Tony didn’t even care how dirty it was or how much of a risk he was taking of catching a hundred diseases. He needed to get to that phone.

It took a long time for him to pull himself over. With every minute, more tears fell. They were less of relief and more of utter panic as thoughts of being caught raced through his head. He was barely moving with the pain that coursed through his body, but he couldn’t stop. Stopping meant capture and capture meant…

Tony didn’t want to think about what recapture meant.

When he finally got to the phone, he could barely see through the tears that streamed from his eyes. He made himself sit down and take a few deep breaths in a weak attempt to calm his beating heart. When his hands finally steadied enough that they were only shaking like a cold jelly and not a leaf in a hurricane, he reached for the shard of glass still in his pocket.

It didn’t take him too long to open the front panel of the old phone, its screws giving out after a few hits with a nearby rock. Ignoring the insane screaming of his shoulder, he threw away the metal sheet and reached in for a few of the wires inside.

With his technical skills, it didn’t take him long to strip a couple of them with the glass and get the thing working. The line wasn’t the best, the dial tone dropping in and out as Tony held it to his ear. It would do though; it had to do.

What was the number? What was the fucking number? Tony didn’t know it; he had it saved in his phone, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t need to know it. It wasn’t like he’d ever anticipated this scenario.

He hadn’t come this far to fail now, at the final hurdle. With shaking hands, he dialled a number he thought he knew, his heart pounding and his eyes fluttering closed on the last digit.

“ _Winter,_ hello.”

Tony breathed a sigh of relief, falling back against the dingy phone booth and placing his hand over his heart to feel it thump rapidly. He’d done it. It was the right number and he’d fucking _done it._

“Oh my God,” he breathed out. “It’s Tony. I need to talk to Bucky.”

“Tony? I’m sorry, what are you calling about?”

“Tony! Tony Stark!” God, how did he not know Tony? Everyone knew Tony, or so he thought. Bucky owned the damn club; they knew his boyfriend. “I need Bucky, please. Get him for me.”

“I, I’m sorry,” the guy stuttered, clearly taken aback by Tony’s tone. Great, he must be a newbie. “He’s in a meeting.”

“Get him! Barge in. I don’t care if he’s with the Queen of England; tell him Tony’s on the phone.”

“Sir, I’m sorry. I can’t–”

“Please.” And, great, now Tony was crying. He was so damn close to getting away, only to fall now. “I need to talk to him. Tell him it’s Tony, _his_ Tony.”

Tony’s head hurt and his tears were stinging the cuts on his face.

“He’s going to fire me,” Tony heard, but he also heard footsteps and a door opening and closing as the man moved from the bar to the back steps. The guy was actually going to find Bucky for him.

“He won’t,” Tony promised. “Not when you tell him it’s me. His _gioia_. He calls me doll and he wears my grad ring on a chain around his neck.” Tony’s voice broke on that word. The full force of everything hitting him all at once and he was so close to breaking.

“Shit! You _are_ the boss’s Tony!” The guy broke into a run, his feet pounding the stairs and his breathing coming sharper. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ How did I not realise? Where are you? Tony, where are you?”

Relief crashed into Tony like a wave. He was going to be okay. They knew; someone finally knew.

“I don’t know.” No, he wasn’t going to be okay. Tony didn’t know where he was. “Oh, shit! I don’t know.”

Panic. Fuck, fuck. Oh, God. His head hurt and he really wanted to die. His vision was swimming as he blinked around him, clutching the phone to his ear like a lifeline. He seemed to forget everything as everything started to blur together. “Where – there’s a warehouse. A lot of them. Maybe a building site. I can see a tower, maybe. Yes; there’s a tower. A big one, by a bridge.”

“Okay. A tower.” There was another door opening and slamming behind the man as an electronic beeping sounded. Tony knew that meant he was leaving the club part and heading up to Bucky’s office. “Can you see anything else?”

“ _Aztic_!” Tony practically sobbed in relief as he saw faded letters on top of a warehouse near him. “There’s a sign on a building. _Aztic_.”

“Got it! Can you get anywhere? Is there a road or a–”

“There’s nothing.” Tony’s voice was flat as his heart sank down to the bottom of his stomach. “There’s nowhere I can go. I have to go back.”

“Wait! I’m nearly there–”

“I can’t.” Tony cut the man off and held back a sob. “I have to go back. I can’t hide out here and I don’t know where I am. If they find me, I’m…” Tony took a deep breath and let it out shakily. “It’s HYDRA. Tell him, okay? HYDRA. I have to go back. Tell him it’s his _gioia_. Tell him that. You have to. That word, okay? Please.”

“I’m here! Bucky’s right–”

_Beep!_

The phone cut off and Tony could have screamed. He dropped it immediately, the phone swinging wildly as it fell on its cord, but Tony didn’t care. He looked around himself frantically, but one of the wires had cut right through. He must have stripped one too close or picked an old one that couldn’t hold up. He picked up the receiver and pressed the button harshly, desperate for it to reconnect. But it wasn’t going to.

Tony was fucked. There was no way that he could get anywhere, not in the state that he was in. He had _nothing_ on him but cuts and bruises and he was felt as though he was only about three seconds from passing out from sheer exhaustion. As stupid as the idea was, he had to go back. If they saw he was gone and they found him wandering around… well.

It wouldn’t be pretty.

That was one of the hardest things Tony ever had to do. All he wanted to do was curl up and cry; the pain of his body nowhere near as bad as the pain in his heart. And that was just ridiculous. He was a fully grown man; he could go a week without seeing his boyfriend. But, well. What if he never saw him again?

 

Tony took another shaky breath and tried to collect enough strength to head back the way he had come. It was a struggle, his legs screaming with every step he took, but he had to stay strong. His lip began to bleed as he bit at it in a weak attempt to stop himself from yelling out. He didn’t want to go back to that dingy and dark warehouse; he wanted to be in Bucky’s arms. Another few tears leaked out when he saw he warehouse he’d come out of. He really didn’t want to have to go back there, back to the dark and the danger. There was only so much he could take and Tony had reached his limit a long time ago. His knee was a mottled purple, so viciously bright that Tony wanted to vomit whenever he so much as looked at it.

Tony approached the warehouse, oh, so cautiously, still wary that this was all just a huge trap. What if they were all standing just behind the door to jump out on him? What if it hadn’t actually been _Winter_ that he’d called?

This mob was fucking good; it wouldn’t have been out of their reach to tap into the phone in the park. Maybe it was good that he hadn’t gotten through to the real Bucky; the last thing he wanted to do was lure the man he loved into a trap.

 _Fuck,_ he muttered to himself as he wiped a hand down his face. What the hell had Tony gotten himself into here?

The door to the warehouse creaked as he slid through the smallest gap he could realistically create. Even that noise seemed like the loudest thing in the fucking world and he cringed in terror. When no one came running at him with fists raised and guns on show, Tony relaxed enough to unlock his fingers, wincing at the cuts his nails had left on his palms.

With every step to the chair in the middle of the room, he felt more and more tense, his breath coming so fast that he could barely finish each one. He was so tired, _so fucking tired._ As ominous as the chair looked, all Tony wanted to do was collapse there and never move.

When he was close enough, his knees gave out and he fell into the chair with a twisted sense of relief. He was half-unconscious when he realised that there was no way that he could fix the zip ties back around his wrists.

  
  



	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so bad at long chapters, sorry. So bad. 
> 
> A little bit of Italian in here because we liked Tony having that background.

Someone came into the office and walked over to Bucky, hovering by his desk. Bucky didn’t turn his chair around and stayed focused on the glass of whiskey in his hand, ignoring whoever it was who had come in. He wanted Tony back and he wanted him now.

_Bucky entered his apartment wearily, throwing his coat somewhere in the dark living room and kicking off his shoes. It had been a good day. A long and tiring day, but a good one nonetheless. They’d intercepted a shipment of liquor as it came off the freeway and had finally collected some long-owed debts._

_But all of that paled away when Bucky walked into his bedroom to see Tony curled up on his bed, his mop of dark hair lying on Bucky’s pillow with one leg above the comforter and one below._

_“Buck?”_

_“Hi, doll,” Bucky whispered, unbuttoning his shirt as he sat on the edge of the bed. He loved how different he became when he was around Tony and in the safety of his own home; so much softer, gentler, as if he couldn’t still feel bruised knuckles and dried blood on his shoes._

_“Mm,” Tony rolled over, lying on his back as he blinked awake. “You’re late.”_

_“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, eyes distracted by the way that the moonlight caught the strands of grey colouring Tony’s temples. “I had some things to sort out.”_

_“Right.” Tony yawned and leant happily into the hand carding through his hair. “Did you sort it?”_

_Bucky made a noise of agreement, loving how soft Tony’s hair was. “All done.”_

_“Get into bed then,” Tony said, reaching out with grabbing hands. Bucky did so happily, a soft smile on his face when Tony curled up at his side, his head buried just below Bucky’s armpit._

_“I love you,” Tony mumbled, voice heavy with sleep once more._

_“You, too. Go back to sleep, babe. I’m here.”_

 

“I don’t care,” he muttered. “Take whatever questions you have to Natasha.”

Someone cleared their throat.

“It’s not about the business,” they managed to stammer out.

“Then I really don’t care,” Bucky said again. He heard Natasha stand up and walk over to whoever it was, ready to step in and move him away.

“It’s about Tony.”

As soon as those words sounded, Bucky went still, his whole body tensing immediately. He turned in his chair and lifted his gaze to stare at the nervous man in front of him. He vaguely recognised him as Scott, a new hire for the bar downstairs. He was eager to join the mob, but he was still in the lowest of levels.

“What did you say?”

“It was Tony. On the phone. He rang here.” Scott belatedly held out the club phone and to his credit only flinched a little when Bucky jumped up from his chair and snatched it with a growl.

“Why the fuck didn’t you get me?”

“I tried to!” Scott held his hands up as he stared wide-eyed at Bucky. “I swear I did. I was outside the door when the phone just cut off. I tried to ring back, but there was no answer.”

Steve was at Bucky’s side in an instant, his hands hovering near Bucky’s shoulders.

“Buck–,” he started before Bucky cut him off with a shake of his heads, fingers already jabbing at the buttons. He lifted the phone to his ear and swore when it wouldn’t connect.

“Nothing.”

Scott jumped half a mile in the air when Sam appeared on his other side and Natasha narrowed her eyes at him, head tilted to one side.

“Why should we believe you?”

“Why would I lie?” Scott countered, eyes dashing between all those now crowding around him and voice wobbling.

“You were the only one who heard this message and now the phone mysteriously won’t connect.”

“I didn’t make this up!” Scott’s gaze dashed between them before finally settling on Bucky. “I swear to you, he rang me. He said that he had been grabbed and was being held in a warehouse. Held by HYDRA.”

Bucky looked like he wanted to believe him for a moment before Steve stepped in front of him, blocking Scott from his view.

“It’s a trap.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and tried to look past Steve at Scott. “Of course it’s not. Why would this be–”

“Your boyfriend is kidnapped and you get a call from him luring you to an abandoned warehouse. You want to know why I think that’s a trap?”

“It’s _Tony._ ”

“Buck, come on! You’re smarter than this.” Steve laid his hand on Bucky’s arm and he softened ever so slightly. “I know you want it to be and God knows we all wish it were, but I’m just not sure how much we can trust it.”

“Steve…”

“I know,” Steve said, squeezing his fingers on Bucky’s shoulder. “I know.”

Bucky coughed and swallowed harshly. He was so scared; he’d come so close and now it might not even be real?

“We can’t go,” Steve continued, ever the voice of reason.

“He’s right,” Sam chimed in and Bucky deflated even further. He and Sam had had their moments, but he was a sensible guy, always the one to call them back onto steady ground when they went too far. “It would be a suicide mission, if it wasn’t him.”

“And if it was?”

There was silence after Bucky’s question before Scott shuffled on the spot.

“He, um, he said that you call him ‘doll’, and that he, no, _you_ wear your – I mean _his –_ ring?”

Natasha shook her head and perched on the arm of the couch. “Anyone could know that – Bucky doesn’t hide either of those things.”

“He said he’d escaped?”

Scott looked over to Sam when he spoke.

“Yeah. Well, I think so. He sounded totally frantic, kept saying he was running out of time. He’d managed to get out of their hold, apparently, and get to a phone. I asked him where he was and he said near warehouses. There was a tower and a bridge from what he could see, that’s all he said. That and _Aztic_.”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Scott replied, shrugging his shoulders and sighing. “That was what one of the buildings said, I guess. He said he could see a sign, but that was all he could read from the phone booth. _Aztic._ ”

Bucky turned to Steve with a wounded expression, but Steve sighed.

“Warehouses, Buck. It’s an ambush.”

“Where is he now?”

Scott grimaced and shrank back. “He, um, he went back?”

“ _What?_ ” Bucky roared.

“I told him not to!” Scott cried, hands up in the air in surrender. “I tried to tell him it would be okay, but he said that he had no other choice! He kept saying that they would find him, that he had nowhere to hide.”

“Fuck this,” Bucky said, venom dripping from his voice. “We’re going.”

“It’s a trap!”

Bucky whirled round and glared at Natasha, eyes flashing dangerously as he held her gaze.

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me,” he said darkly. “If I say we’re going, then we are fucking going.”

Steve laid his hand on Bucky’s shoulder again, but Bucky threw it off. “Get the fuck off me.”

“It’s too convenient.”

Bucky snarled, but Steve held up his hands.

“She’s right,” he said softly. “Nat’s right; it is too convenient. Tony rings on a disconnected phone and talks to a guy who’s never heard his voice before. He hangs up before you could be connected to him and he says he’s gone back? Come on, Buck, be sensible.”

Bucky sighed and finally gave in. His head fell forward and he sighed harshly, hands curling into fists and arms shaking by his sides.

“ _Gioia_.”

“Who?” Sam, Steve and Natasha all pulled confused faces, looking at Scott like he had gone mad, but Bucky lifted his head slowly and held Scott’s gaze.

“What did you just say?”

“ _Gioia_ ,” Scott repeated. “Tony said to tell you that it was your _gioia_. I didn’t know what it meant and I, uh, I sort of forgot.”

Bucky laughed in disbelief, a bubble of laughter that forced its way past his lips.

“It’s him,” he said softly, “it’s him.”

“Buck?” Steve narrowed his eyes at his friend and Bucky turned to him with a smile.

“It’s him,” he said again and shook his head when Steve opened his mouth. “There’s no doubt in my mind. Call Bruce and get him on this warehouse with a sign for _Aztic._ We’re going. Tonight.”

/

_Tony woke slowly to the sound of a low voice murmuring somewhere above his head. He sighed contentedly as he let it wash over him, until he realised who was speaking and what they were saying._

_“Are you speaking Italian?”_

_Bucky stopped talking and Tony opened his eyes, tilting his head back to look up at his boyfriend. Smiling at the rabbit-in-the-headlights expression on Bucky’s face, Tony rolled over to lie on his stomach, stretching out beside Bucky._

_“Don’t stop. I want to hear it.”_

_Bucky gave him a look before he let out a sigh and reached for an Italian phrasebook that he hadn’t noticed before._

_“Dovevi rimanere sveglio.”_

_Tony grinned. “Very impressive. I assume you meant that I should have stayed asleep and not awake **,** but still. Very solid effort.”_

_Bucky glared at him and Tony laughed, reaching out a hand to rest on Bucky’s stomach._

_“Why the sudden interest?”_

_When Bucky blushed in response, Tony’s eyebrows rose to his stomach._

_“This wasn’t how I imagined it.”_

_Tony felt his eyes widen and his heart began to race._

_“I’m going to take you to Italy in the summer. Just you and me. When your classes end. Three weeks in the sun, all expenses paid. 5 star hotels to treat you like you deserve.”_

_And maybe that wasn’t where Tony had thought that was going, but fuck if that wasn’t amazing._

_“Really?” Tony pushed himself up so that he was looking down at Bucky._

_“Only the best for you, my,” Bucky grabbed his phrasebook and flicked through it quickly, “my gioia.”_

_Tony felt his heart flutter and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “Where did that come from?”_

_Bucky’s brow furrowed. “You don’t like it?” He turned back to the book with a pronounced frown. “I thought it suited you.”_

_Tony’s fingers danced up and down Bucky’s stomach as he took the time to think of his next words._

_“No, I like it. My mom used to call me that. Back when I was tiny, no more than 5, she’d give me a goodnight kiss and call me her little gioia **.** Her joy.”_

_Tony broke his eye contact with Bucky, looking down at his hands instead._

_“She always spoke in Italian to me, wanting me to learn both languages like she had. I stopped speaking it after she died and no one ever called me their joy again. Until you, I guess.”_

_“Is that okay?”_

_Tony smiled when Bucky’s hand covered his and lifted his gaze once more. “Yeah, babe, it’s okay. I’ll be your joy and you can be my caruccio, my darling.”_


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another stunning piece of art in here. Just look at the expression on Bucky's face. I love it so much.

“Okay.” Bucky kept his eyes on his hands, nails picking at scars forming on his knuckles. “Is everyone ready?”

Steve swallowed and Bucky made sure to not look at him. He didn’t do this. _They_ didn’t do this. Don’t get attached outside of the mob; that was their rule. That was _Bucky’s_ own rule and look where they were now.  

“Yeah. They’re all in the van. Weapons stocked and Bruce on the phone. Are you ready?”

Bucky finally looked up, nails catching a particularly deep cut on his hand causing him to wince slightly. This was their shot. Their one last chance to get Tony back where he belonged.

“Let’s fucking do this.”

 

/

 

“Okay, signal jammer is in place.”

Bucky nodded. They were on their way to the industrial park, having finally located it – all thanks to Bruce. Bruce was on the radio in each of their ears, guiding them on their way to HYDRA’s location.

“Thanks, Bruce. Have you got us?”

“Yeah. The tracker’s working.” Bruce was in one of Bucky’s many homes, safe enough from the fighting whilst he helped them out with a signal-blocker and a few cameras.  “The radio has enough of a range to work when you get there too.”

“Have you blocked their signal?”

“Not yet, Sam. I’m waiting until you’re nearer in case they notice and it alerts them.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“I’ll give you minute’s warning. Wait, Steve… which way are you going?”

There was a chorus of swearing as Steve took a sharp left turn at a ridiculous speed, throwing everyone against the side of the van. Bucky had given explicit instructions for Steve to get them there as quickly as possible and Steve was something of a rally driver.

“Thanks again, Bruce,” Bucky said, completely calm and more than used to Steve’s manic driving. “Steve’s taking us a very indirect way – the way he’s driving I’ve had to buy off a load of cops so we don’t get pulled over, but I can’t do anything about the speed cameras. We’re going the back ways. Have you got eyes on HYDRA?”

“Oh. Makes sense. I could tap into some of them if you want. The cameras, that is.”

“Nah, you’re fine, Bruce. I would much rather have your focus on the warehouse.”

“I can see the warehouses, but I haven’t got eyes inside,” Bruce replied. “I guess I can let you know if anyone runs out when you get there though.”

“That’ll be great. I’ll leave someone in the van to get them.”

Was that dark? Who gave a fuck? Not Bucky, that was for sure.

“Fuck me, are we there yet?” Clint yelled from the back of the vehicle. “I want to kill these bastards.”

Bucky smirked as Steve took another violent turn.

“We’re nearly there. Load up your guns and sharpen your knives.”

Nat’s bright laughter rang out, delicate but dark. “Well ahead of you, boss.”

“There’s movement,” Bruce said. “I’ve got a couple of people going in, but I can’t quite see who.”

“Okay. Any idea how many there are?”

“Not a clue, Bucky, sorry. Like I said, I only have eyes on the outside of the building. That’s as close as I can get without alerting suspicion.”

“No, don’t worry. I’ll soon tell you when we’re in.”

Steve finally slowed down the van, squinting through the darkness as he took another turn.

“Right, we’re here. Everyone ready?”

“Turn off the headlights now and go park around the back.” Bucky took a breath and steeled himself, turning round to stare at his crew. “One objective. Find Tony and get him the fuck out of there. Take out as many as you can, but leave Rumlow for me. Clear?”

When he was answered with nods and focused expressions, Bucky was satisfied.

“Bruce?”

“You got it, Bucky. Setting the jammer now. You’ve got radio contact only.”

“Brilliant; isolate those fuckers.” Bucky turned back to the front of the car and set his jaw. “Tony gets out alive. End of.”

 

/

 

Steve was a psycho. Never let it be said otherwise. Despite his blond hair and blue eyes, his beautiful innocence, the guy was a fucking nutter. It had never been seen by those who bullied him at school, – nor by his Ma, thank God – but hand Steve a weapon and a bad guy and he went off. There was no one Bucky would rather enter a fight with.

“Fuck you!”

There weren’t many people who would laugh after shooting someone, but Bucky gave Steve a free pass for that one. These people had taken Tony, so fuck them.

“Got one?”

“Oh yeah!” There was more gunfire and the shattering of glass. “And another.”

And maybe Bucky shouldn’t laugh either, but oh well. He was definitely going to hell anyway.

“Are we close yet?”

“I don’t know.” Bucky squinted through the dark ahead of him. He couldn’t really see where he was or where the fuck Tony was being kept.

“Bucky!” That was Nat, running up behind them. “Which one?”

 

 

Who the fuck had an industrial park as their mob headquarters? Pussies, that’s who. At least Bucky was transparent about where he worked. If anyone had a problem, then they could just walk right into his club and find him.

“I don’t know. I don’t _fucking_ know!”

It was satisfying to accompany that admission with the sickening pop of a gun and the bang as someone fell to the floor.

There was blood everywhere, but Bucky really didn’t care. All he wanted was to bring more. His own, even, if that would lead him to Tony. Because that was his end goal; get Tony Stark.

“We have to be getting close.” A punch, a cry, a body hitting the wall. “This is definitely the park that he said he was.”

Bucky was almost daring someone to say that it was a trap after all until Clint yelled out, “this number of goons means that _someone’s_ here.”

Clint was right, of course. It seemed like the whole fucking mob and half of Brooklyn was here. But even that number of people wasn’t going to stop them, not when Bucky had given his crew such a specific goal.

“Steve!” Bucky ducked a kick and threw a punch, wincing when he caught something sharp on the other guy’s jacket. “I’m going left. You take the right. Shout if you – oh, you bastard!”

Bucky cut himself off when someone kicked him from behind and he fired off a few rounds, uncaring of where they went. Judging by the yells, the splatter of blood he felt across his cheek and the lack of a retaliation, he’d say he’d hit his targets.

“Radio if you find him,” Bucky continued as he swapped his ammo.

It was laughable, really. HYDRA had such a rep as this amazing mob that was to be feared across the city, but they hadn’t seen this coming. They were like a snake. The head had to be cut off, otherwise it would never die. Bucky and his own crew could take out a hundred of them, but their boss would just recruit another hundred by the morning.

Dispensable. That’s what these low lifes were. There were only put there as a trap, only meant to piss Bucky off instead of actually stopping him.

It was quiet. As soon as Bucky pushed through to the back of the warehouse, down yet another fucking corridor and into the adjoining unit, he instantly noticed the lack of… everything, actually. There weren’t any men, no noise, no gunfire or grunts. It felt wrong. It felt like a trap.

Or maybe it meant that Bucky was going the wrong way.

He had about ten seconds to decide. It was such a horrible, horrible feeling. There was so much pressure on him. If he went forward into the warehouse and Tony wasn’t there, then he’d wasted so much time. Tony could be in so much more danger if Bucky was wrong.

But if Bucky turned and went back when Tony was actually in front of him, then…

It all came down on him and he needed to choose. The walk seemed to take a year, the ten feet in front of him stretching and stretching and stretching. He cocked his gun, shifting enough to feel the reassuring press of his knives against his body. He wasn’t going to get a second chance at this. It was now or never. If Tony was behind the door that he could see up in front of him, then he had one chance to storm in and grab him.

Anything could be in there. Bombs, traps, guns. One single shot and it was all over. He couldn’t let his guard down now.

Bucky took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing his mind to clear completely. It wasn’t even a full minute before he felt the familiar blanket of a second persona slipping over him.

He hated the nickname the _Winter Soldier._ Every decent mob member had one, but he had no idea where his had really come from or who had actually started it. It was fitting, though. In certain situations he could shut himself down, turn his brain off and let this ruthless, violent side of him take over even more than usual. Emotions never came into play and he just became like a machine. As hard as ice, solid and impenetrable. Just like he had always been before he let Tony in.

Tony hadn’t seen this side of him yet. There were a lot of sides that Tony hadn’t seen yet, but this one was one that Bucky had really tried to keep hidden. Right now, though? Now, he had no choice.

This was Tony. And Bucky had one chance to save him.

 

The door went down with an almighty crash, the wood splintering and shards flying across the room. He took a moment to feel a tiny flicker of relief that he’d found the right room. The idiots in the room barely even had a chance to breathe before Bucky raised his gun and shot all but two.

One by one they fell, dead before they hit the floor. A part of Bucky wished that their deaths had been dragged out and painful, but then his eyes found their target and all other thoughts fled his mind. Because there he was.

Tony.

Tied to a chair with blood dripping from his face and his hair matted to his head. His clothes were dirty and torn and his left leg was twisted in a way that it really shouldn’t have been. Five days they’d had him, but it looked like months.

Anger burned in Bucky’s stomach, hot like acid, rising and bubbling up his throat until it hurt. His hands shook, breaking his normally impenetrable façade. The sight of Tony like that was enough for hot tears to sting Bucky’s eyes and for him to bite at his tongue, the sharp tang of blood grounding him.

Because there _he_ fucking was.

Brock Rumlow.

Bucky had known it was that dickhead, but actually seeing him standing there made his blood boil. He had his hands up to stop his remaining henchman from firing at Bucky, but Bucky didn’t care. All of his attention was focused on how Rumlow was standing behind Tony holding a gun against his head, the barrel almost touching Tony’s thick, dark hair that Bucky loved, oh so much.

What Bucky wouldn’t give to put a bullet in him right now.

_“Did you just sniff me?”_

_Bucky didn’t bother to reply as he snuggled even closer to Tony, wrapping his hand tighter around Tony’s chest and tucking his knees in between Tony’s legs._

_“Seriously,” Tony said, tilting his head into the pillow and trying to look over his shoulder at Bucky. “Did you just sniff my hair?”_

_Bucky grunted. “Smells good.”_

_“Wow, sweetheart. That was two whole syllables and it’s not even 9am yet.”_

_“Shuttup.”_

_Tony laughed lightly as he tangled his fingers with Bucky’s, holding their hands over his heart._

_“I like the way you smell, too,” Bucky heard him whisper._

_Tony had been gone the next day._

“Drop the gun, soldier.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes and readjusted his grip. He held Rumlow’s gaze as he spoke. “Not a fucking chance.”

“That’s such a shame. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this.” It was said so casually, just like a normal conversation about the weather or the price of gas, not like Rumlow was talking about shooting a hostage.

“You’ll be dead before you finish pulling the trigger,” Bucky promised darkly.

“But what a risk to take.” Rumlow’s voice was like syrup. Thick and sickeningly sweet, so over the top and hideously fake. “A race, Barnes. You and I running to the end, with first prize meaning so much. Who’s going to come out on top?”

Tony still hadn’t said anything. Bucky didn’t really give a shit about what Rumlow was talking about when _Tony_ wasn’t talking. That was one of the worst things about the whole ordeal because Tony was always talking; the problem was getting him to shut up. So, for him to be sitting there in total silence was unnerving, so much more worrying than the gun Rumlow’s lacky had trained on Bucky’s chest.

“Why, Rumlow? You’ve got me. Is that what you wanted out of all this? Me?”

“I want it all.”

“A turf war?” If he was going to lose Tony over a turf war, Bucky was going to flip his shit. “That’s what this is about?”

“You’re a pain, Barnes. A thorn in my side and it’s time this all ended. Time for it all to end.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” The words were nothing more than a growl.

“How many have you taken out?”

Bucky smiled sarcastically. The faint sounds of gunfire could still be heard, along with the falling of bodies. “At least half your crew. And they’ll just keep going. Oh, and at least a handful before we even got here tonight.”

“Really?” Brock hummed thoughtfully, his gaze dropping to Tony. He stared at him in consideration for a long moment. “Is he really worth all this? He’s very loud. So fucking _mouthy._ ”

“He’s perfect,” Bucky snapped back immediately. His Soldier was cracking, his carefully crafted blank slate starting to colour. Red with anger; deep, dark and vibrant.

“Really?” Brock asked again. “I don’t see it. Really don’t see it, to be honest. But, either way, you got sloppy, Soldier. You let this happen; you got soft.”

Bucky didn’t hesitate. His finger curled back towards his chest and he fired. One perfect shot into the chest of the man on Rumlow’s left. He saw Rumlow’s arm shift and his world seemed to stop. Bucky let out a small sigh of relief when no other shot was heard.

“Not that soft,” Bucky said, refocusing his aim onto Rumlow when the man chuckled.

“Nice shot. But I really wish you hadn’t done that. I liked Chuck. He was a good man.”

When Bucky scoffed, he nodded and shrugged.

“Okay, he wasn’t a good man,” Rumlow admitted. “He was a good right-hand, though. You’ll have pissed him off, by doing that.”

“You knew that was gonna happen,” Bucky said lowly.

“I did. But now you’ve taken one of mine. Fair’s fair, Barnes. Now, I get to take one.”

“I’ll kill you,” Bucky threatened, eyes narrowed and flashing dangerously. “Harm one hair and I swear I’ll make you into my pin cushion.”

Brock laughed loudly. “One hair? Are you not looking?”

“You didn’t do that,” Bucky said confidently. He tried as hard as he could to not stare at the bruises on Tony’s face or the blood over his clothes. If he did, he would just break. “You never do your own dirty work. You’d break a nail.”

Then it was Rumlow’s turn to narrow his eyes and his jaw set menacingly. Of course it had been Rumlow that had made at least half of the marks on Tony, but Bucky knew how riled up Rumlow would be by Bucky denying it.

“Now I see where this one gets his smart mouth.”

 _Don’t react,_ Bucky screamed at himself. _Stay calm until you need to pounce._

“You’re even more of a dick than I thought if you honestly don’t believe I did this.” Rumlow held Bucky’s gaze and glared. “I put nearly every one of these bruises on your precious boy. I did his knee, too. Nice work, don’t you think?”

God, Bucky wanted to bite. He wanted to take the bait and put twelve bullets right into the fucker’s chest.

But he couldn’t. He had to play the long game. Bucky had to go along with the game and play it out till the end. Because Rumlow had to want something, otherwise Bucky would have been dead as soon as he’d shot Chuck. Fuck, _Tony_ would be dead if Rumlow didn’t want something.

Bucky knew what it was. And it was so much worse than fucking turf.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little switching POVs in here. Hope they're easy to catch. 
> 
> Tony finally comes face-to-face with Bucky after the big reveal. Also, a little more violence. Why not?

Tony came to slowly. His head hurt, _surprise, surprise_ , and there was a dull pounding in nearly every limb. His chest hurt, too, but it was better than it had been the previous day. At least he thought it had been a day. There was a little sunlight coming through the high windows and it had been dark when he’d gotten back in after his little adventure.

Whatever. Whatever time it was, Tony had gotten out and that was what was important. He’d left some sort of message and now all he could do was pray that someone was going to listen.

Tony closed his eyes again, fully prepared to take advantage of the fact that he was alone for once. There was no one to ask him anymore stupid questions that he didn’t know the fucking answer to for one moment of goddamn silence.

Just as Tony was slipping off into something close to sleep, there was a gunshot.

A fucking _gunshot._ Tony was awake like… well, like a shot.

Another one sounded. They were getting closer and closer, more rapid gunfire approaching and he was tied to a fucking chair. He struggled against his bindings, but they held fast.

When he’d gotten back from his spontaneous solo mission, his next watchman had been a rookie, painfully young and obviously scared. He had seen the bindings on the floor and nearly shit himself. He’d been so terrified that he’d be blamed that he’d just found some new cable ties and bound Tony’s wrists quickly, destroying the evidence before anyone higher up found out. And it wasn’t like Tony was going to tell anyone.

He wasn’t getting out again and the guns were getting closer still, louder and louder and accompanied by the sounds of bodies hitting the floor. Tony was trying hard not to panic, but he wasn’t doing a very good job. There was a gunfight going on and he was utterly defenceless, trapped and bound in a fucking warehouse.

Maybe it was Bucky out there. That thought calmed Tony a little, his heart still pounding but his mind clearing.

Maybe his message had gotten through; maybe Bucky was actually coming for him like he’d always promised..

_“I’d come for you.”_

_“What?” Tony looked up from his paperwork and squinted over at Bucky. “What did you say?”_

_Bucky placed a mug of coffee down and pushed it across the table towards Tony._

_“If you were ever in trouble,” Bucky clarified, dropping into the seat opposite Tony’s, “I’d come for you, no questions asked.”_

_Tony furrowed his brow and tilted his head._

_“What sort of trouble? Like at work? I have a meeting with the board next month, but I don’t think I’ll need backup, babe.”_

_Bucky smiled and took a sip of his own drink, his eyes staying on Tony’s._

_“Any sort of trouble, doll. I’m gonna be there for you no matter what.”_

_Tony was still a little bemused, but he returned the smile. Reaching out across the table, he took Bucky’s hand in his._

_“Thanks, babe. You’ll always be the one I call first.”_

And he had been. As soon as he’d gotten the chance, Tony had been on the phone begging for Bucky to come and save him, to storm in like a knight in shining armour, barging in and taking out the enemy.

Unless of course Bucky _was_ the enemy. Tony had had time to think about his situation, but this was one thing he still wasn’t sure about. He didn’t want to believe it, full stop. Bucky wasn’t a… he _wasn’t._ Bucky was the one who literally tucked him into bed after a long night of grading papers, or the one who bought takeout to his office. He was the one who wrapped him up in his arms and sang soft jazz classics to get him off to sleep and who laughed like a school-child at any knock-knock joke. Any man who smiled so sweetly or who kissed so gently couldn’t be a murderer.

All Tony wanted was a normal life. He didn’t to be here and he sure as hell didn’t want to believe that he had never noticed his boyfriend’s secret life. How could he have fallen in love with a monster? By admitting that Bucky was _that_ , he was admitting that he would never be normal again.

 

But Tony really didn’t have time to think about that as shouts and screams got closer and closer, scuffling and punching ringing out. Just as he was about to really freak out, the door behind him banged open forcefully. This was it. The finale where Tony died.

Tony tensed up as he felt someone approach. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as whoever it was leant in annoyingly close, close enough that he could feel every breath. Tony cringed away as a hand traced up his back.

“They’re here.”

That voice belonged to the boss, Tony knew that much. He didn’t come very often, only once a day, if that, but Tony knew the voice. Anyone would know the voice; it was smarmy, sickeningly sweet and so fake.

Brock Rumlow. The fucking mob member that even Tony had heard of.

“He came for you,” Rumlow whispered in his ear. “Are you ready to see him again? The boyfriend you’ve denied again and again.”

Tony tried not to react. He was so confused with everything. He didn’t deny his boyfriend; he denied that his boyfriend was a mob boss. There was no way it was actually Bucky making that noise outside, firing guns and killing so many people. Even if Tony wanted it to be in some messed up sort of way.

“He’s going to come running in at any moment,” Rumlow continued, right in his ear. “But is he going to be able to control that bloodlust of his? He’s going to be so angry, so focused on his target that he might not be able to differentiate. Winter might just come right in and shoot _you._ ”

Tony’s immediate reaction was to scoff; Bucky wouldn’t do that. But maybe he would… how much did Tony really know Bucky? Or Winter, as Rumlow had called him. Who exactly was he and how ruthless was he going to be? Did Tony mean anything or was Rumlow right? There was every chance that Bucky, or the Winter Soldier, was just going to come in and shoot them all, Tony being nothing more than a distraction. What could Tony offer a mob boss?

Tony stopped that train of thought almost as immediately as it had started. This was still _Bucky_ , no matter what sort of situations they were in. He loved Bucky and Bucky loved him… right? There was no Winter. No Winter Soldier.

“He’s getting closer,” Rumlow taunted. “Can you hear him?”

Rumlow straightened up but stayed close, presence hideously close to Tony’s back.

“Maybe I should just kill him as soon as he walks through that door. He’s going to come from that way – it’s his only option. But do I give him a chance?” Rumlow bent down again, his lips almost brushing the shell of Tony’s ear, breath hot. “Or do I take him out before he’s even crossed the threshold?”

Tony felt the panic rise up again. He couldn’t lose Bucky now. Not after all of this, all the secrets revealed and the pain caused. He needed to get out of here; they both did. The tears came then. He had always done so well around Rumlow, around all of them really, to keep them at bay, knowing not to show weakness to the big boss especially, but Tony just couldn’t keep them in anymore.

He didn’t sob though. He didn’t have the energy left in him to sob.

 

 

 

 

/

  


Bucky wanted to wipe the smug smile off Rumlow’s face. Preferably with his fist. Or a gun.

And when he lifted his hand to tangle his fingers in Tony’s hair, Bucky just about lost his shit. He came so close to cracking, to letting his emotional side take over, but he stopped himself at the last second. He couldn’t. He couldn’t risk it, not with Tony so close. He had to keep his cool.

“So, tell me,” Rumlow said, voice low and eyes dark, “how did you know we were here? I really thought I’d picked a good place. Remote, abandoned, miles away from your precious hangout.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, just held Rumlow’s angry gaze.

“Oh, please tell me,” Rumlow said, tone dripping with faux casualness. “I really want to know.”

Tony smiled and Bucky knew what was coming. Before he could think about drawing the attention to himself, Tony spoke.

“It was me.”

Rumlow tensed and his gaze dropped immediately, his hand tightening in Tony’s hair. His smirk fell away as his expression darkened.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Tony smiled, though it came out as more of a grimace, and held Rumlow’s gaze when the man yanked his head back.

“I told him. I guess one of your men broke a glass bottle in the warehouse because there was a shard on the floor.” His speech was broken by pants and gasps, tears dripping down his cheeks. “I cut my bonds with a piece of glass and stripped the phone on the other side of the park. It wasn’t hard. I got a message through to–”

Tony cut off with a groan of pain as Rumlow embedded his fist right in his stomach. Tony bent over, head resting on his knee before he was yanked back up by Rumlow’s hold.

“You fucking–”

The shot rang out, so loud and so sudden that Tony jumped a mile in his bonds, face twisted in horror at the blood splatter on his face. Rumlow let go of Tony as he fell to the side, the momentary distraction enough time for Tony to throw himself down to the floor, the chair falling with him.

Before any retaliation, before the other in the room could even draw his guns, the two doors to the warehouse flew open.

“Took you long enough,” Bucky threw over his shoulder as he surged forward, kicking out and sending Rumlow’s gun skidding across the cold floor.

“You know me,” Steve called back cheerfully as he aimed a shot perfectly into the chest of a thug behind him, “always the last one to the party.”

“Cover Tony. He gets out alive or we stay here with him.”

Clint’s laugh sounded then, a little loud and a lot crazed. It was accompanied by more gunfire, but Bucky didn’t turn to look at who was taking the brunt of it. His sights were set on one person and one person only. He knelt down very slowly and wrapped his hand around Rumlow’s throat, fingers digging into deliciously soft skin as he relished in the blood pouring from the bullet wound in Rumlow’s arm.

“Fast or slow, Brock?” he whispered as he stood up, dragging Rumlow with him. “How should I do this?”

 

 

/

 

 

 

Tony’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest when he threw himself to the floor. He screwed his eyes shut in terror before anger surged through him. He needed to move and he needed to do it _fast._ When the doors banged open and he heard the familiar sound of Steve’s Brooklyn accent and Clint’s booming laughter, he relaxed ever so slightly.

Bullets flew over his head as he struggled in his bonds, his wrists and ankles screaming with every small movement. He stopped struggling when Bucky walked over and Tony actually looked at him. Like, actually _looked_ at him. That was his Bucky, no doubt about it, but there was something more, too. His whole face was darker, almost expressionless, yet somehow also showing a burning anger. His eyes were so dark, a stormy grey that was almost black, and so different to their usual brilliant blue that Tony’s brow furrowed.

And those hands. Those hands that had held Tony so gently, stroked him so tenderly, were stained with blood and holding someone by the throat. That gorgeous metal hand that Tony had designed with so much care was choking someone. There was no care showing in those cold, dark eyes, no remorse in any way.

Tony didn’t know what to think. He had had days of being told that his boyfriend was a ruthless mob boss. A murderer, a lethal weapon who took out anyone in his path.

But Tony had had two years of soft words and stolen kisses and he really didn’t want to believe what he had been told.

But seeing it… he couldn’t deny it anymore. It was true.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached unbeta'd territory, just to clear my dear friend's name. Thanks for everything again, lovely.

“Come on, you bastard.” Bucky grabbed Rumlow by the hair and dragged him up, taking a moment to kick Brock’s gun away. “You and me. No one else, no tricks or backup. No cheap shot. Just you and me. Let’s drag him out of hiding.”

Rumlow lashed out as soon as he was on his feet, sending his fist flying into Bucky’s face and knocking him sideways. As soon as the punch landed, Bucky retaliated, using the momentum of his fall to kick at Rumlow’s legs. Back and forth they went, punching at each other, shoving and pulling.

“I will kill you,” Bucky promised. “I should have done it years ago, but I swear I’ll do it now. I don’t even care what it will cause him to do.”

Rumlow laughed as he threw a punch that landed on Bucky’s throat and knocked him down again. “Do it, Buck.” He spat out a mouthful of blood that landed near Bucky’s head. “I dare you.”

Bucky kicked out viciously, grinning sadistically when his foot connected with the bullet wound in Rumlow’s arm. He didn’t have too long to gloat before Rumlow twisted back around and threw his arm out again, catching the side of Bucky’s throat.

“Show me you’ve changed,” Rumlow taunted. “I know you can fight better now. But show me you aren’t scared anymore.”

Bucky jumped with renewed vigour at that, anger surging through him. Just as he was about to smack Rumlow with another sucker-punch, a voice sounded from behind that stopped him in his tracks.

“Well, well, well. I just knew you’d come back to me. That voice. Bucky stiffened as soon as he heard it. He held Rumlow’s gaze as he rolled his neck and ran his tongue over his teeth.

“It took you a while, though,” the voice continued from behind him. “Got to say you held out much longer than I was expecting.”

 “Pierce,” he said calmly. “I was wondering when you were gonna show your face.”

Footsteps echoed around the now-silent room. All fighting had stopped as soon as the man had entered the room, his presence that commanding. Bucky heard running from somewhere to his left, the sounds of at least another ten men coming towards them.

“Hm,” Pierce said lightly, “I did debate coming out earlier, but I was waiting for the perfect time.”

The look on Rumlow’s face was disgusting, so arrogant and proud, like he was the one who had designed all of this. He spat out another mouthful of blood as he straightened up, wiping his hand over his face as he stared straight at Bucky.

“Well, you got it, Pierce.” Bucky finally dragged his eyes away from Rumlow’s and turned to face his nemesis, feeling the seconds drag out as he did. “The perfect moment; we’re all here.”

Pierce hadn’t changed that much over the years, Bucky noted. He was older, sure, but he still walked with a cocky self-assuredness and wore those stupid ill-fitting suits. There was a definite lightness to his hair that had been added by the years, but it wasn’t as distinguished as the lovely flash of grey in Tony’s. It just made Pierce look weak.

“I don’t care about ‘all’ of you. I only want you, my boy.” Pierce tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I want you to be mine.”

“Never pegged you for swinging that way.”

Pierce grinned, though it came out as more of a grimace, his face twisting to show yellow teeth and a hundred wrinkles.

“I don’t want you in my bed; I want you by my side. Just imagine it, soldier. We could rule the damn world. You and me; our resources and our land, _combined_. Think of where we could go.”

“You did all of this for the answer I already gave you years ago?”

God, Bucky hated that laugh. Even if he didn’t already hate everything about Pierce, that laugh would have turned him off.

“You know it’s changed. We’ve both grown so much; we could do wonders. You want to say yes now. I know you do.” Pierce walked further into the room, stopping slightly to peer down at the dead bodies on the floor. “Oh, damn. Chuck was a good shot.”

“Not that good.”

“No one would ever be as good as you.”

Bucky growled low in his throat at the quick comeback, fists trembling at his sides. “Fuck you, Pierce.”

“Oh, wow,” Pierce said, tutting and shaking his head. “I thought I’d taught you better than that. Trained that right out of you all those years ago.”

“You taught me nothing other than how to hide my true emotions and who not to fucking trust.”

“Bucky, my boy.” Pierce tilted his head to one side and gave a small pout. “It was you or me. Everyone has to start their mob career with an arrest or they’ll never be taken seriously. You can’t still be mad at me?”

It had been years ago, sure, but Bucky was still furious. Bucky had only been about 19 when he’d met Pierce in the back room of a bar. There had never been anything romantic between them, but Pierce had taken Bucky under his wing like a mentor. Maybe even like a father and a teenage Bucky had needed that guidance.

Bucky had looked up to him for years, let Pierce in on his frat-party venture and shared his money with him. He had worked by Pierce’s side and listened intently to advice on how best to make his small gang into something to be feared across the city. It was before HYDRA was anything to be worried about and Pierce had almost convinced Bucky to turn everything over to him.

And then the police raid happened. Somehow every unregistered weapon, every stolen credit card and every package of weed in Pierce’s hangout had Bucky’s fingerprints all over it when the police had crashed through the door one night without warning.

Although Pierce had given Bucky his best lawyers and the sentence hadn’t been half as harsh as it could have been, it had fucked him up nonetheless and Bucky had sworn never to forgive the man.

As soon as he was out, Bucky vowed never to trust an outsider again. Steve, the ever-present best friend, had supported him as Bucky’s right-hand man and they worked tirelessly for years to raise their status to rival HYDRA’s.

Pierce had tried to win Bucky back a few times, but those attempts had been unsuccessful and Pierce had soon given up. He’d gone into hiding and let Rumlow take over the day-to-day running of HYDRA, finally leaving Bucky alone.

They’d never seen this coming.

“What the fuck have you done, Pierce?”

“I only wanted your attention,” Pierce said, eyes imploring as he spread his hands out innocently.

"And you thought you'd get it by breaking my fucking heart?"

Pierce blinked. “Huh. Well. I got it, didn't I?”

“You’re insane.” Bucky took a step back in disbelief, feeling the reassuring presence of Steve walking closer behind him. “Clinically and totally fucking _insane!_ ”

“He’s alive, isn’t he?” Pierce rolled his eyes as though he had done nothing wrong and Bucky snarled. “I knew you’d never come back if I hurt your precious pet.”

“Hurt him?” Bucky threw his arms out to the sides as his voice grew to a yell. “That’s not hurting him?”

“Don’t take that tone with me, my boy. I kept him alive, didn’t I? Just like you didn’t kill Brock.”

Bucky looked back at Rumlow’s smarmy smile and tried not to give in and kill him right there.

“The only reason he’s not dead is so my boyfriend isn’t either.” Bucky smirked, anger clear in his eyes, and twisted to look at Pierce. “But I can arrange for it, don’t worry about that. In fact, it would be my pleasure.”

“Ah, see that’s where you’re wrong.” Before Bucky could open his mouth to question Pierce, the older man pulled a gun from the back of his pants in a second and shot Rumlow square in the chest. He hit the ground almost in slow motion, his expression locked on one of utter horror. “It was never about him.”

Bucky watched in shock as his mind started to race. If Pierce was prepared to shoot Rumlow, the man that he had brought up and trained for years as Bucky’s replacement, then he really had lost it.

And Bucky had lost his bargaining chip. The only reason that he had left Rumlow alive for so long and hadn’t shot him immediately when he’d walked into the warehouse was so that Pierce wouldn’t be angry. Leaving Rumlow breathing meant that he could show mercy. As much as he had hated to do it, Bucky knew how Pierce operated. Knew what he wanted and how he got it. He could play right into his hands. But not any more. Now he had nothing left to plea with.

 

Oh, but wouldn’t it be so easy to just put a bullet in Pierce right then and there. All it would take was one measly little shot and everything would be over. The turf would be his and, more importantly, Tony would be safe.

But he couldn’t. Bucky couldn’t bring himself to lift his gun. The options were racing through his head, idea after idea after idea.  He could feel his hands shaking, tremors spreading up his arms as he stood frozen.

Pierce noticed too, if his sick smile was anything to go by. All eyes were locked on his hand as he lifted his gun and aimed it perfectly at Bucky’s chest.

None of them would be quick enough. Before any one of Bucky’s team could pull their trigger, Pierce’s bullet would already be in Bucky.

“It appears we are at a stalemate.” Pierce’s voice never changed. It never wavered with anger or fear or any form of emotion. Most would say he was bored, but his eyes gave it all away. They always had. They would flash so dangerously whenever the slightest hint of emotion flickered in his stomach and Bucky always knew what was coming. “Walk away with me and I’ll let you all go.”

“Or we go together.”

“Always so dramatic, weren’t you, my boy? Always looking for the most difficult ending to the simplest solution. Look at what I can do on my own. Think about what we could do _together_.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. I suck at climaxes and I saw a chance to twist my ending.

The noise was deafening.

Absolutely thunderous. So much louder than any of the other shots that had gone off all night and Tony felt like his eardrums had burst with the sound.

There was a screaming sort of ringing in his ears and he blinked once, twice. He could barely hear anything going on around him for the buzz echoing in his head and the entire warehouse had blurred together into one huge mass of fuzzy colour.

In his hand he could feel the gun, fingers curled around its cold form. Tony couldn’t remember ever holding a gun before, never mind firing one. It was sheer dumb luck that he’d managed to shoot it in the vague direction he’d been aiming, a miracle that it had hit its target. But it had. A single bullet right into the chest of that man, whoever the hell he was. He'd stood in shock for a long moment before his legs had crumpled, his body falling for what seemed like forever before he hit the floor with a loud bang. Guns all around Tony lowered as the realisation that the threat had been eliminated set in.

What did that matter? Because Tony had just shot someone. He’d killed someone. Never mind that it was a mob boss or a bad man or someone who’d been about to kill him; Tony had _killed_ someone. How was he any better than anyone in the damn warehouse?

 

Steve had untied him almost as soon as he’d entered the warehouse, running to Tony’s side as Bucky went after Rumlow. In a moment Tony had been freed, his bonds cut by Steve’s sharp knife. There hadn’t been a second to breathe though, as Steve had him up and on his feet, trying to find the easiest path to fresh air and freedom.

Everything seemed to happen so quickly. Yet another man had entered the warehouse, but Tony’s brain was so fuzzy he had no idea who he was. Everyone had frozen, even Steve. His hands had fallen from Tony's waist as he all but ran to Bucky's side. Clint had taken over covering Tony, but he too had been focused on the guy in the suit.

Tony didn't care who he was. All Tony could see was the gun pointing towards Bucky’s chest.

That was it. That was the moment that decided it for Tony. No matter what had happened or what he had seen, there was no way that Bucky was dying before Tony could ask him what the fuck was happening.

Rumlow’s gun had been there on the floor, as perfectly placed as that shard of glass had been. It was somehow too perfect and yet it was just so right. It was impossibly easy to pick it up, its weight so unfamiliar in Tony’s hand.

 

Tony had killed someone. He was just as much of a monster as all the men standing around him.

The gun fell from his hand as he succumbed to the darkness that had been trying to grab him for so long. It was a blissful peace and Tony was more than happy to let himself fall.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Tony talk.

Tony would never be the same again.

He couldn’t remember getting to the hospital, only that he was suddenly waking up in a white bed with real pillows and bandages all over him. It was while he was there that reality started to set in.

Tony would never be able to walk without a limp and even that wouldn’t be for weeks. There’d be the bruises and the ribs to deal with, not to mention the fear of anything every being around his wrists again. It was highly unlikely that Tony would ever be comfortable in the dark again either. (The night nurse was a very sweet girl who always left a light on for Tony when the nights drew in after the first time he’d screamed himself hoarse.)

He’d have to have weeks off work to recover, so add finals to the list of things that he would miss. That’s if Tony still had a job. He had disappeared for a week after all; he doubted the board would accept kidnapping as an excuse for his absence.

The only sleep Tony had gotten for two days since he’d been found had been drug-induced. The drugs wore off far too quickly, though, leaving a haze in their wake and Tony with an inability to comprehend anything. Real sleep was plagued with nightmares and left Tony completely exhausted, mentally and physically.

There was no such thing as a comfortable position and if one more nurse gave him a questioning look when he avoided their questions, he was going to snap.

Yes, he had four broken fingers, cracked ribs, a destroyed knee, a broken wrist, a sprained ankle, dehydration and a concussion.

Did he want to talk about it? No fucking way in hell.

 

But the hospital room wasn’t so bad, really. It was bland and plain with an annoying beeping machine near Tony’s bed, but it could have been so much worse. He’d had two days of alone time too, with his situation too critical for visitors to come in.

Something like that, anyway. Tony hadn’t paid too much attention to whatever the nurse had been saying at the time; his brain too busy swimming with the crazed week that he had had where his entire world had flipped on its head. He welcomed the peace and quiet; though there was a stupid, reckless, dumb, idiotic, _stupid_ part of him somewhere down by his left ankle that wanted Bucky there by his side.

He was glad that he wasn’t coherent enough to ask anyone to let him in.

 

/

 

When Bucky had finally walked through the door, Tony took a moment to appraise him. For some weird reason, Tony had almost been expecting Bucky to look different. Now that he knew Bucky’s real identity, his real persona, he had sort of imagined his look to have changed as well.

Bucky the Mob Boss was meant to look completely different to _Tony’s_ Bucky. He couldn’t possibly look the same as the guy that had had his apartment filled with flowers for their first anniversary, or to the man that woke Tony up every Monday with a row of soft kisses pressed from forehead to neck and a warm coffee waiting for him on the bedside table.

There was just no way that _that_ man was the same mob boss that had massacred a warehouse of guys.

 

“I might never walk right again.”

“What?”

Tony nodded, eyes firm on Bucky’s stormy blue. He’d planned on starting another conversation when Bucky had hesitated in the doorway, but apparently his brain had other ideas. _Jump straight in_ , he told himself. Get right to the topic. Make the bastard feel bad.

“The doctor came in earlier. He said that the damage to my leg was too extensive and given that it was left without treatment…” Tony trailed off and his jaw clenched. “I have to have physical therapy, but they aren’t hopeful.”

Bucky’s face was unreadable for a long moment before he fell forward as though his strings had been cut. “If he wasn’t already dead, I would–”

“But it wasn’t just him, was it?”

“What?”

“Rumlow,” Tony said, his tone so much calmer than he actually felt. “Pierce. They weren’t the only ones involved. Yes, they kidnapped me,” and Tony wasn’t sure how he got through that sentence without throwing up, “but I wouldn’t have been in danger if it wasn’t for you.”

There was silence in the hospital room. Tony caught his lip between his teeth as he tried not to choke on the tension. He didn’t mean the words, but at the same time he didn’t _not_ mean them either. As much as he loved Bucky, heart and soul, he couldn’t help but blame him. And whilst he knew it wasn’t Bucky’s fault entirely… try telling that to his leg. Or his head. Or his ribs.

“I think you should leave.”

Tony hadn’t actually planned on that. He was going to talk to Bucky, to ask him all the questions burning his tongue and to force him to explain everything.

But having him sit there in front of him had derailed all of Tony’s plans. Tony had never been scared of Bucky. Not once in two years. Not when Bucky got grumpy or yelled at him, not when he got drunk or slammed doors in the middle of their worst fights. Not ever.

But now? There was something in his head screaming at Tony to run. Nothing in his chest, though, oddly enough. It was all in his brain. And wasn’t that fucked up?

Bucky swallowed. “Right.”

He stood up without protest and Tony looked away as Bucky hovered by his bed for a moment.

“Call me if you need me.”

“Goodbye, James.”

Tony closed his eyes as he waited for a very long moment for Bucky’s footsteps to sound and then for the door to close, leaving him alone. When it did, Tony let his tears fall.

 

/

 

He hadn’t called anyone. Who would he call? What would he say? This wasn’t the sort of thing he could explain very easily. Who would believe him? _Tony_ was having trouble believing that it had actually been real, never mind having to convince someone who hadn’t lived it.

Mobs weren’t a secret in the city, but the circles that Tony moved in had nothing to do with them. Well. They _had_ had nothing to do with them.

Fuck. What the hell had he gotten himself into here?

 

/

 

Tony woke with a gasp, a choked-off scream leaving his dry lips. The nightmares were getting old now and Tony just wanted to sleep. But this was his punishment and now he would have to live with the visions for years to come. A replay of the moment he killed a man playing over and over in his head until… where was the end? Was there ever going to be an end?

It was horrifying, the repeat. It was almost like an out-of-body experience with Tony watching himself reach for the gun and shoot it blindly. Tony had to watch as the small piece of metal flew through the air until it made contact with a man’s chest and watch as blood spilled out, dark and yet bright, pooling on the dirty floor in a patter that Tony would always see in any glass of liquid.

But every time, the part that made him feel the worst? It was that he felt no remorse. Not the first time he’d fired the gun and not in any of the replays his brain had so kindly shown him.

“Tony?”

“Steve?” Tony blinked to clear his vision, watching as the hazy image of Pierce’s dead body vanished before his eyes slowly. He concentrated on the figure to the left of his bed, shrinking back into his pillows when Steve came into focus. “What are you doing here?”

Steve placed a vase of flowers on the bedside table. “I just came to bring these. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

There was an awkward pause where Steve shuffled a little. “Ae you okay? That looked rough.”

Tony scoffed derisively. Yes, it had been a bad nightmare, but Tony was getting used to them. “Wasn’t half as bad as the one before it.”

His eyes flickered from the flowers to Steve’s half-hovering form. It was strange to see the man who had so unashamedly murdered so many – whilst laughing, Tony remembered – to be cowering at the sight of little old Tony. Strange, but somehow comforting at the same time.

“Did Bucky…” Tony cut himself off, biting down on his lip and shaking his head. He didn’t really know what he was going to ask, but he was certain that he didn’t want to know the answer. He was just so damn _tired;_ he didn’t want to think about Bucky or hospitals or the bandages covering every inch of his body.

“He’s doing real bad,” Steve said softly. “I know it’s not what you want to hear and it’s not fair to you, but you need to know. He’s a mess.”

Tony stilled. “Oh.”

“Tony?”

“Sorry.” Tony shook himself and swallowed. No, he didn’t want to hear and it definitely wasn’t fair. But at the same time, that was exactly what he needed. “Have you seen him?”

“He’s downstairs.”

“What?”

“We couldn’t get him to leave. He’s been in the waiting room or the cafeteria for the last two days since you asked him to... He said he needed to be here if you changed your mind and let him back in.”

Tony fell silent, his head spinning. Did he want to see Bucky? Bucky obviously wanted to see him, but why? Was it because he loved Tony or was it because he needed to eliminate the other witness to his crime?

Tony’s heart told him it was the former, but his head was screaming the latter. He so wanted to believe the man that he still loved.

Still loved? Could Tony still be in love? God, he was confused.

“Will you let him back in?”

Tony bit his lip. (And then bit a little bit harder so that he didn’t scream ‘yes’ without thinking.) The battle going on between his head and his heart was making his stomach hurt.

 

/

 

 

 

 

“Who are you?”

Bucky’s heart constricted at that, but he made no show of it in his expression. When Steve had come out and told him that Tony wanted to see him, he could have cried. Two days without Tony after just getting him back had been utter hell and Bucky was going to do everything in his power to not have to go through that again.

“I’m the same guy I’ve always been.”

Tony scoffed incredulously and shook his head. “Don’t give me that. Two years you and I dated and I never knew. I was going to marry you. Christ, I never even had an inkling that you were...”

“Was going to?”

“You’re a mob boss,” Tony cried, wincing when he pulled at his stiches with the movement of his body. When Bucky shot forward, Tony glared at him until he moved back again.

“My boyfriend is the leader of a gang. No, a _mob._ I watched you kill a whole…” Tony fell back against his pillows, looking over to Bucky in the chair beside his bed as his voice wobbled dangerously. “Who are you?”

“You know me.” That was true, in Bucky’s eyes. Bucky had shared more with Tony that anyone outside of the mob had ever known. And he would share so much more.

He couldn’t lose Tony, not so soon after getting him back. He had to say everything; he had to confess. There was no going back, not now Tony had seen everything. “I _am_ still the same person; you just know everything now.”

“So the rest was what, a cover up?” Tony wiped at his eyes, sniffing a little. “What about the club?”

Bucky’s heart was pounding. His palms were sweating and his throat was tight. He was the leader of one of the most well-known mobs in New York and yet he suddenly had no answers. He had politicians and police on his payroll, had talked his way out of life-threatening situations on a weekly basis. Hell, only four days days previously he had faced down a rival gang without flinching once, killed more people than he could even think about. And yet this had him completely stumped.

“The club is our headquarters. The mob works out of it. Nearly everyone that works there is a member or at least closely associated.” Bucky had never told anyone about the mob before, not every detail of it. Tony would have the ability to bring them all down if Bucky kept talking. But he couldn’t stop. He didn’t _want_ to stop, and that in itself was terrifying.

“I formed the mob as a teenager. I don’t even remember how it started really, but we kept growing. We’ve never been into the heavy shit though.”

Tony scoffed at that, but Bucky pushed forward, needing to explain. “I mean, Sam and Clint have a pretty successful weed business on the side, but nothing more than that. We defend and we protect.”

“You _kill_. It’s not protection,” Tony said, another tremor in his voice. “It’s murder.”

Bucky pressed his lips together, hands curled into fists on his knees. Yes, it was. There wasn’t really a way that Bucky was coming back from that now. He’d never really been ashamed of what he did, though he knew it was wrong. Morally and legally, though he had never cared. At least not until now.

“There’s a little bit of theft too,” Bucky continued. Might as well carry on, if he had any chance of saving his relationship. “And a bit of conning the rich to give it to the poor.”

“With a huge cut for yourselves?” Bucky winced at Tony’s dry tone and Tony rolled his eyes. “God, I can’t believe this. I knew there was something, but I didn’t know it was this big.”

“What?”

“Oh come on, Bucky. Give me some credit.” Tony sniffed again, trying to swallow down his tears.

Bucky’s hand hovered over the button to release Tony’s painkiller, but Tony pushed his hand away.

“There was no way that _nothing_ was going on. I thought you were cheating on me for a moment.”

Bucky was halfway out of his chair in an instant, reaching out for Tony’s hand. “I wasn’t; doll, I _wouldn’t._ ”

“I know.” Tony gave a half smile at the feeling of Bucky’s fingers on his and Bucky felt something relax inside of him.

“I figured that one out pretty quickly,” Tony continued. “There was obviously something going on though. You would leave at all times of the night and come back in at weird hours. That wasn’t so strange when you own a nightclub in New York, but then there were the times that Steve would text you and you’d have to leave for ‘nightclub business’. There’s only so much business that a nightclub needs the boss to oversee.”

Bucky swallowed harshly, throat suddenly incredibly dry. Before he could say anything – though what he was going to say, he had no clue – Tony spoke again.

“I also had to wash quite a bit of blood from your suits. Bit of a giveaway that something wasn’t right.”

Bucky grimaced, dropping his gaze to their linked hands. “Yeah, that would do it.”

“Bucky, I don’t think I can do this.”

“Don’t say that.” Bucky should have been embarrassed by how quickly he surged forward and how fast the words left his mouth, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be so. “Tony, don’t. Please.”

“Can you change?”

Bucky was silent for a long time. Just as he opened his mouth, Tony shook his head.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“It’s my life,” Bucky said. He’d been doing it since he was a teenager; he couldn’t imagine stopping. “I can’t stop.”

“And my life is not like yours. You can’t stop and I can’t start.”

Bucky dropped his gaze to his hands wrapped around Tony’s. He remembered the first time they had met, when Tony dove straight into the conversation about Bucky’s metal arm like no one had ever been brave enough to do before. He recalled the first time he had let Tony take a look at it in one of the labs at Tony’s college, Tony breathing out a bunch of words that Bucky didn’t understand as he tried not to get hard at the feather-light touch of Tony’s fingers. Bucky thought back on all the days that life seemed so fucking hard, but then Tony would come to him with that soft smile and those warm brown eyes, holding out his hand to pull Bucky into a tight hug.

“Don’t do this, doll. My gioia, don’t leave me.”

 

 


	19. EPILOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it! Sorry this was such a shit show and terribly violent. Please take a moment to admire the hot-as-hell picture at the end! Loved it so much

 

 

“Hey, gorgeous.”

Tony smiled as he felt familiar arms wrap around his waist, warm and comforting. “Hey, yourself.”

“Good day?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Tony replied, leaning back into Bucky’s embrace as he continued chopping the vegetables on the counter. “I went over my paper with Bruce, implementing the feedback from the Wakanda team. I think this is the final draft and then we can start looking into the first prototypes.”

Following his kidnapping and the months of recovery that Tony had needed, Tony had quit his job at the college and started working on the Wakandan project that had made Bucky’s arm. He loved his research and could fit it wherever he needed, switching up his schedule to help out at Bucky’s new businesses. When news of HYDRA’s fall had spread, Bucky had swooped in and opened _White Wolf,_ a second nightclub, right in the middle of HYDRA’s old turf. _Ghost_ had followed soon after, quickly becoming Sam’s baby. (A nightclub was the perfect place for a weed-business to run out of.)

“Mm,” Bucky nuzzled into Tony’s neck, “sounds good.”

“What did you do?”

“Really want to know?”

“No, not really.”

Tony largely tried to ignore what Bucky did, choosing to follow the path of blissful ignorance. If he really tried hard enough, then he could successfully block most of it from his mind. It wasn’t the best thing Tony had ever done and he wasn’t proud of it, but with Bucky in his life, it was getting harder and harder to care about morals.

Tony had nightmares still. He hated the dark and hated the thought of being alone, or people walking up behind him. Whenever it got cold, his knee played up something awful. The pain made it hard to get out of bed and he was mad at the world. He’s lash out on Bucky on those days, blaming him for everything even though Tony had long since forgiven him.

Life was far from perfect, but Bucky made it liveable.

“I might have to slip out tonight, doll.” Bucky started to press kisses to the column of Tony’s throat, tongue poking out to taste. “We found a slight problem with one of the guys at _Ghost_ so Steve and I need to deal with it.”

“Mm.” Tony knew what Bucky was insinuating, but it was so hard to make himself care when that metal hand was inching its way down to the waistband of his pants. It was cold in all the best ways, those metal plates moving so perfectly in sync as Bucky’s fingers teased the elastic on Tony’s boxers.

“But I don’t have to go for an hour or two,” Bucky whispered into Tony’s ear, voice deep and husky. “It’s best to let him stew.”

“Right.” Tony threw his head back onto Bucky’s shoulder and panted as Bucky’s hand finally made contact with his dick. “Of course.”

Tony would never get used to the feeling of Bucky’s hand wrapped around his dick, so strong but so gentle at the same time. His legs shook as Bucky’s other hand slipped under his shirt and teased his nipples, pulling on them until they were red and swollen. Pushing his knife and board away, Tony reached out to clutch at Bucky’s arms, his nails digging into the soft skin and leaving beautifully-red marks.

“Oh, yes, doll. You like that?”

Tony panted and pushed back into Bucky’s thrusts of his erect dick against Tony’s ass, whining at the layers of fabric stopping them from touching. A rhythm was built up quickly, Bucky’s upstrokes fitting perfectly with a forward thrust of his hips, his teeth biting into Tony’s neck as his fingers pinched a nipple.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go to bed.”

And who was Tony to say no to that?

 

/

 

Bucky scrunched his nose in his sleep. It was the cutest thing and Tony loved watching him do it, like a little bunny rabbit. A bunny rabbit that wakes up to run the biggest mob in New York. Semantics.

From the first night they spent together, Tony had noticed how he fit so well into Bucky’s embrace. Every time they curled up, Tony slotted up against Bucky’s side like he was made to be there. Bucky’s pale skin was the perfect complement to the dark tan of Tony’s, the shining metal even more striking.

With Tony’s head on Bucky’s shoulder, Bucky’s hair tickled the back of his neck in such a lovely way, bringing forth a tired smile.

Sometimes it was hard to get past the way that the hand curled around Tony’s hip and the one resting lightly on the base of his neck had killed people. They’d hurt too many people to count and yet they held Tony so sweetly, arms wrapped around him and holding him so tenderly close. Hell, in an hour or so Bucky would be getting up and running off to the club where he would use his hands to… well. To inflict pain rather than the pleasure that they had brought Tony so recently.

But Tony knew where he was meant to be. He’d battled long and hard, gone back and forth on whether or not to run a thousand miles in the opposite direction, but he knew. Deep down he knew where he was meant to be.

“I love you,” Tony whispered, twisting to press a kiss to Bucky’s stubbled jaw. He settled back into Bucky’s embrace, nuzzling his head into Bucky’s jaw again. “You are my world.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am [on tumblr](http://s-horne.tumblr.com/) so please come and say hi!
> 
> Here is [the link](https://romancebyfaye.tumblr.com/post/180175372980/art-for-mob-mentality-a-collaboration-for) for the artwork by romancebyfaye


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